From Where You Are
by aslytherinindistrict12
Summary: In the early years following the war in Panem, the Hunger Games were more brutal than ever. Kurt and Blaine are struggling to live in a ravaged District 1, but when one is reaped for the Games, can their love, and life, survive?
1. Chapter 1  Waking Up

**Hi! This idea has been spinning around in my mind for a while now so I've actually decided to write it. PLEASE review and give me any suggestions or comments or whatever. Just please please review. If you have any questions or suggestions or simply want to fangirl you can PM me or drop me a message at my tumblr (.)com and I promise I'll get back to you. **

**I suggest you go read this story at scarvesandcoffee(.)net. There, it is edited (takes much too long to edit here) and I have small extras, like pictures, gifs, and links that will help you interact more and imagine the story better. The title is From Where You Are and it is authored by "theslytheringleek". If you prefer to read it here, that is perfectly fine, but I apologize in advance for any formatting errors. **

**Enjoy! **

The boy opened his hazel eyes and stared, hatred filling every corner of his body.

The old alarm clock continued to ring, unaware of its imminent destruction right before a tanned fist slammed down on it. Being a feeble little thing, it fell apart, silent at last.

"Oh, damn it," Blaine sighed, hauling himself upright with a groan. He wasn't bothered in the least about the alarm clock; this routine had occurred many times before. He knew exactly how to fix that little hellish creation - it was just the waking up part that was pissing him off. That and the fact that it was the day before the-

"Blaine? You up yet? You're going to be late," Mr. Anderson said, his deep voice interrupting Blaine's thoughts.

The boy stepped out of his bed, shivering slightly as his feet touched the bare wooden floor. Dressing quickly, he made his way out of the room and into the kitchen of the little stone cottage, yanking on worn boots as he stumbled out the door.

"Blaine? Are you coming home after work?" his mother called after him.

"No! I might be out a little late…you know, to spend time with-"

"I get it. It's all right. Just make sure you're back before the curfew."

"Of course, mom."

"Take this with you," Mrs. Anderson said, pushing a small warm sack into her son's arms.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked hesitantly, but already tucking it into his burlap bag.

"Of course. Share them tonight." She insisted.

"Thanks, mom. I'll see you tonight," Blaine replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he hurried out the door.

The air was cool and crisp, the smell of smoke touching the breeze. _Great weather_, Blaine thought inwardly as he climbed onto his rusted bike and pedaled down the dirt road. Even in such early hours, the citizens here in the slums of District 1 were already active, smoke rising from the chimneys of broken shacks, people stepping out of their houses and making their way to the centre of the city.

What you must know dear reader, is that District 1isn't a privileged place. The war had taken a heavy toll on it because of its proximity to the Capitol, and the Capitol still held a tight grip on it, knowing that if District 1 decided to do anything, the Capitol's early warning system wouldn't even have time to kick in. Not that the citizens were planning to, anyways, because District 1 relied on the Capitol for everything: food, energy, medicine (all of which were decisively lacking). This was why tributes from District 1 didn't usually win the Hunger Games, an annual show of strength by the dictatorship in which one boy and one girl were chosen to take part in a fight to the death. Living under the fist of the Capitol usually quashed any fighting spirit from a young age, and pair that with not being used to physical tasks, District 1 tributes had no chance. Every child aged twelve to eighteen had their name entered in the Reaping once every year, no more and no less, to prove that no matter how rich or how poor, no one could escape the will of the Capitol. The two unfortunate people who had their name picked out of that glass bowl were most likely looking at a death sentence. However, the recent discovery of a diamond mine will soon put District 1 on their course of being one of the most powerful districts in Panem, but that is a story for another day.

Blaine continued along the path he took every day, passing the square and unsuccessfully ignoring the announcements playing in the city square.

"Good morning, citizens of District 1! Please proceed to your destinations. Once again, we remind you that everything will be closed tomorrow for the Reaping of our twenty-third annual Hunger Games. Please be home by the district curfew of 7PM…" the monotone voice echoed across the already bustling city centre.

The young boy quickly pulled up in front of a large, grey building. He tied his bike to the railing with an old chain and made sure the lock was secure before he climbed up the stairs and stepped into the building. He passed a worn sign - he didn't have to read it to know that it said _District 1 Educational Facility_.

Blaine walked quickly to his class, the normally laughter-filled hallway as silent as it always was at this time of year. He quietly stepped into his Ancient Literature class, where the students sat, talking quietly, tiredness etched across their young faces. Blaine slid into the final bench beside a boy whose nose was buried in a book. He nudged the other boy gently.

"Oh, there you are, Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed loudly, noticing his boyfriend for the first time. The rest of the class looked up at the sudden noise before continuing their respective conversations. "I thought you were going to be late. Dad told me that some rain blocked up a few of the back roads." Kurt continued in a quieter voice.

Blaine didn't have time to reply before the teacher made her way into the room, not bothering to ask why her class was so silent.

As she began her lecture, Blaine settled into his seat, clasping the other boy's hand beneath the desk. Kurt raised an eyebrow questioningly before the look of confusion was replaced with a look of understanding as the significance of today dawned on him. He squeezed Blaine's hand tightly as he turned his attention back to the lesson, scribbling notes every so often with his other hand, while Blaine continued to completely ignore the lesson as usual.

Blaine awoke from his reverie conveniently five minutes before class was scheduled to end.

"Can anyone tell me the author of this ancient classic?" the teacher asked, holding a yellowed book up, pleased with the number of hands that shot up. "Go ahead, Elizabeth," she said, turning to a petite girl with wispy hair that was flung into an untidy knot.

"It's the first novel of the Harry Potter series," the girl replied softly.

"Very good, Miss Browning. Now Mister Wood, would you mind telling us who wrote this iconic novel?"

"J.K Rowling."

"Excellent, Oliver. And who would like to tell us how many installments are in the _Harry Potter _series?" A tall girl with ginger locks raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Thrift?" she asked the eager student.

"There are six novels that have been recovered, but historians believe that there were more that were lost during the war."

"I must confess, I'm very impressed, Jennifer," the teacher said with a smile, turning to the class. "Yes, there have only been six novels recovered, which leaves us to speculate the ending on our own," she continued.

The bell rang loudly as the students rose slowly and packed their materials into their bags.

"Now, remember, we have no class until the Games are finished, so we'll continue our study of Ancient Literature when we get back. Read your photocopy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and be prepared to discuss it when we return. I'll see you all tomorrow at the reaping, and, of course, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Kurt and Blaine walked side-by-side into the congested hallway.

"Kurt! Blaine!" voices called out. The two boys turned.

Rachel and Finn, hands intertwined, approached the two boys, Mercedes and Tina following closely behind them.

"Just wanted to remind you guys that Glee club is canceled until after the Games." Rachel said breathlessly.

"Kurt, you headed home now? I need to drop off some stuff," Finn said to his stepbrother, holding up a bag of cords.

"No, I have a shift at the factory. What are those for, anyway?"

"Burt needs some more cords for the hovercraft repairs. A new order was sent in from the Capitol. Apparently, everyone there wants to arrive to the Games in 'style'," Finn replied scornfully.

"Not here! Are you crazy?" Mercedes scolded quietly, "I'll see you guys late, okay?"

"Of course," Kurt said, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

The group of friends smiled weakly at each other as they each broke off into their separate ways.

Kurt followed Blaine out to his bike, watching as he unsecured it from the railing. "I don't know why you're so worried about your bike getting stolen. Only someone as small as you can ride it, and I'm pretty sure it's a safety hazard."

"Don't insult the bike. It's older than you-"

"My point exactly."

Blaine let out a small laugh and shoved him gently. "So show some respect. I'll see you tonight."

"I'll stop by the mill and we'll walk together. Sound good?"

"Sounds totally awesome." Blaine said, giving his boyfriend a short kiss before climbing onto his bike and pedaling down the cobblestoned road.

"Don't fall!" Kurt called after him with a smile before making his way through the throngs of people to his work. From the moment you could walk you were doing some sort of work in District 1. When you were sixteen, you took a small job to help support your family. The pay sucked, but any small amount would help get food on the table. Kurt had been working in the stitching factory for a year now, and he hated every minute of it. Sure, it was cool to be working with such luxurious materials at first, but the long hours and dim light was significantly dry and uneventful when combined with the delicate detailing that always hurt his eyes.

Kurt trailed off his thoughts as he stepped into the factory, eying the rows upon rows of tables before him with distaste.

"Mr. Hummel, you were almost late. May I inquire as to where you were?" the peacekeeper in charge said gruffly, staring at the young boy.

Kurt lowered his eyes, trying to mask the hatred within their blue depths, "I was at school, sir."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again. You'll be working at table eighty-three this afternoon," the peacekeeper replied haughtily, checking Kurt's name off on the sheet.

"Yes, sir," Kurt said quietly before turning and making his way down the rows of chairs to his designated table, giving a sigh at the pile of fabric on it. _It's gonna be a long afternoon_, Kurt thought with a frown, sitting at his seat and plugging his ancient MP3 player in, blaring the beautiful sounds of classic musicals like _West Side Story_ and_ Wicked_ in his ears, and settled down to work.

A few hours later, Kurt finished embroidering a lovely pearl design onto a black silk vest and imagined what it would feel like to wear it when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He pulled out his earphones and saw Puck standing above him.

"Puck, what're you doing here?" Kurt asked surprised.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to start working in this shithole, if that's what you mean." Kurt glared as Puck continued, "I was just dropping off some fabric from the mill and saw you. Mercedes told me to let you know that everyone is getting together in the choir room, you know, to spend some 'time' together in case one of us gets screwed tomorrow."

"I don't think so. I promised Blaine we would go out tonight…"

"I get you Hummel, no worries. In case I do get picked tomorrow, I wouldn't mind getting a little somethin' somethin' tonight," Puck winked.

"You know it's not like that," Kurt said, blushing.

"Just messing. Anyway, I'll see you at the Reaping tomorrow. May the odds be ever in your favor!" Puck replied, his voice taking on a serious tone. He clapped Kurt on the shoulder and strode off.

Kurt sighed softly, "And may the odds be ever in yours…"

**Author's Note: **

**Thanks so much to my friend Jen who has been a real help in getting this started and my fabulous unnamed beta who has also been a life-saver. And my followers on tumblr because I love you. I'll try and update every week or as soon as I can, I know how annoying it is to wait. Hope you stick around! **


	2. Chapter 2 You Make Me Smile

**Hey everyone! Sorry this has been a little late, still trying to get in the swing of posting. I'm going to answer all the reviews personally to you so please please review and tell me what you think! Happy December and I hope you enjoy! **

The lights grew dimmer and dimmer until only the glow of a few candles illuminated Kurt's workspace. He blinked repeatedly, ignoring the sting in his eyes as he tied off the final stitch. With a smile, Kurt packed away all the fabrics in the box below his table and stood, wincing from the ache in his muscles as he stretched himself out. Making his way down the rows of tables, he approached the Peacekeeper in charge.

"I've finished my work for the day sir. Request sign out." Kurt said flatly.

"Name?"

"Kurt Hummel."

"Request granted. Work resumes after the Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." The Peacekeeper replied, not bothering to look up as he checked off Kurt's name.

The slender boy exited the building, the cold chill making him tighten his scarf and wrap his arms around himself, holding his worn jacket in place. A small skip slowly returned to his step as he headed to the mill where Blaine worked.

The icy wind chapped Kurt's lips as he reached the mill at last and passed through the rusty gates. Many workers, looking tired and worn, were packing up the final rolls of cloth into the storage closet and heading home. Bright blue eyes scanned the sorry scene in front of him until they landed on Blaine.

He was still clad in only his white t-shirt and worn jeans. Both were browned from the dust and dirt, and despite the cold wind Kurt could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Kurt stiffened as he watched Blaine wince under the weight of a giant swathe of black velvet, his muscles looking sore and raw as he finally managed to push the cloth into the closet. Blaine turned, and seeing Kurt he gave a small wave, a smile breaking across his exhausted face. But before he made his way to his boyfriend, Blaine approached a water trough, washing his face, hair, and arms from the dust and muttering a quiet thanks to another boy who offered him a threadbare towel to dry himself upon.

Blaine walked away from the mill, pausing in front of Kurt until Kurt gathered him up in a warm embrace.

"I'm gonna get you wet." Blaine muttered into Kurt's shoulder.

"I suppose." Kurt said shortly, running his fingers through Blaine's wet curls. The shorter boy looked up and gave him a quick kiss before breaking away and gripping his hand.

"Let's go." He said grinning, slinging his pack more securely on his shoulder and pulling his boyfriend down a muddy path.

"But your bike?"

"I dropped it off on the way here. Don't worry. "

"Me? Worry about a bike that's going to get you killed? More like worried about you when that bike actually does break."

"What did I say about hating on that bike?"

"Did I say anything about listening?"

"Touché," Blaine replied with a laugh, "Now we're going to have to hurry if we want any time to sit before the sirens."

"Stupid curfew…"

Blaine just chuckled, keeping his hand tight around Kurt's as they quickened their stride.

A few minutes later, the couple reached a splintered fence which they jumped skillfully, years of experience teaching them where it was lowest and how to avoid the cruelest thorns. Finally, they reached a small clearing, dry grass dotted with small lilac flowers. The two had been coming here ever since their first day of school where chance stood them beside each other as a Peacekeeper listed off restrictions to a group of frightened children, his voice caging in the free spirit they were all born with as he forced them to learn, to follow and to never question.

"Now before I forget…" Blaine said happily, releasing Kurt's hand suddenly as he reached into his pack and pulled out a small bundle. Unwrapping it, he handed Kurt one of two chocolate cookies.

"Mmmm…" Kurt hummed, "This is delicious. Where on earth? How?"

"My mom. I guess she had a few extra from the bakery." Blaine replied, his mouth full of soft dough.

Licking every crumb off their fingers, the couple made their way to a large tree in the centre of the meadow, Blaine bent over and dislodged a bundle that was hidden between the thick roots, pulling the worn tablecloth off an ancient guitar, wood made soft and smooth by generations of hands.

Kurt and Blaine sank down against the stable trunk, holding on to each other as the sun began to set in the distance. Wordlessly, Blaine pulled the guitar across his chest, Kurt laying his head onto Blaine's knee, plucking the petals off a small flower as the boy with hazel eyes began to slide his hands across the strings and started to sing softly:

_You're better than the best__  
><em>_I'm lucky just to linger in your life__  
><em>_Cooler than the flip-side of my pillow, that's right__  
><em>_Completely aware __  
><em>_Nothing can compare to where you send me__  
><em>_Let's me know that it's okay, yeah it's ok __  
><em>_At the moments when my good times start to fade__  
><em> 

Blaine looked down at Kurt, his voice gaining strength. 

_You make me smile like the sun, fall outta bed__  
><em>_Sing like a bird, dizzy in my head__  
><em>_Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night__  
><em>_You make me dance like fool, forget how to breathe__  
><em>_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee__  
><em>_Just the thought of you can drive me wild__  
><em>_Oh, you make me smile_

_Even when you're gone, __  
><em>_Somehow you come along just like a flower pokin through the sidewalk crack__  
><em>_And just like that__  
><em>_You steal away the rain__  
><em>_And just like that_

_You make me smile like the sun, fall outta bed__  
><em>_Sing like a bird, dizzy in my head__  
><em>_Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night__  
><em>_You make me dance like fool, forget how to breathe__  
><em>_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee__  
><em>_Just the thought of you can drive me wild__  
><em>_Oh, you make me smile_

The two were laughing now and Kurt sat up and added his voice to the happy melody, both their voices rising into the chilled air.

_Don't know how I could live without you__  
><em>_'Cuz everytime that I get around you__  
><em>_I see the best of me inside your eyes_

_Oh you make me smile! _

_You make me smile like a sun, fall outta bed__  
><em>_Sing like a bird, dizzy in my head__  
><em>_Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night__  
><em>_You make me dance like fool, forget how to breathe__  
><em>_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee__  
><em>_Just the thought of you can drive me wild__  
><em>_Oh, you make me smile…_

Blaine stopped strumming and leaned over to pull Kurt into a long kiss that made Kurt's heart stop. Breaking away with a grin he whispered, "_Oh you make me smile." _

Pushing the guitar aside, Kurt gently eased himself onto Blaine's lap, letting strong arms hold him tightly. Blaine rested his chin onto the top of Kurt's head, humming a tune softly. The two sat like this for a while, enjoying the closeness and safety that they only got while in each other's arms.

Taking in the scent of the dusty air and Blaine, Kurt looked across the clearing and said slowly, "I'm going to miss this."

"Hmm?" Blaine replied drowsily.

"If I get picked tomorrow. I'm going to miss this. This meadow… this old tree… you."

"Let's not think of that now." Blaine said firmly, holding him tighter.

Kurt quieted and closed his eyes, feeling Blaine's heartbeat on his back. And as the sun sank, the two boys laughed, talked, kissed and sang until the sirens and falling darkness ushered them home.

**Credits: **

**Song used: **_**Smile**_** by Uncle Kravitz (I switched a few words around to make it fit) **


	3. Chapter 3 The Reaping

**Sorry this is late! This chapter is shorter than usual but I'll have the next one out soon no worries. Please review! Reviews are great motivation and I'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions. And now without further ado, Chapter 3. **

**(I do not own Glee or the Hunger Games.) **

"_ring ri-i-ing ring" _The old alarm clock stuttered weakly.

Blaine's eyes shot open instantly and turned gently to quiet the broken clockwork. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the cracked ceiling, a small hole filtering a small shaft of sunlight into the small room. Rising slowly, he walked over to a tin bucket of water where he splashed cool water onto his face. Blaine caught a glimpse of himself in a cracked mirror, eying his reflection wearily and taking in the rivulets of water streaming down his faces, catching onto his lashes… the dark circles under his hazel eyes from a sleepless night.

Today was the day.

Blaine shivered as he stripped off his sweats before he pulled on his nicest outfit, a white button down, black pants, and a dark blazer. His hands shook as he slowly buttoned the shirt, the task proving almost impossible.

The door creaked open and cool hands brushed his own aside and slowly buttoned up the rest of the shirt. Blaine raised his head and looked at his mother, who was trying her best to avoid his gaze.

"Mom…"

"Put on your blazer Blaine we're going to be-"was all Mrs. Anderson managed before Blaine gathered her up in his arms.

"Don't worry sweetheart, they won't pick you." She said in a strained voice.

"That's what you say every year." Blaine smiled as he released her and pulled on his blazer. "How do I look?" He said, raising his eyebrow comically and gesturing down at himself, trying his best to lighten the mood that still lingered heavy in the dusty air.

"Dashing. All grown up." Mrs. Anderson replied with a small laugh before pressing her lips to her son's forehead and holding him close.

"Everyone ready?" Mr. Anderson asked, poking his head into the room.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Walking out of the small stone cottage and down the worn road, the Andersons kept closer together than usual, Blaine sandwiched between his two parents.

When the family reached the crowded and silent city square, Mrs. Anderson giving her son one last hug, and Mr. Anderson giving Blaine's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before watching their boy make his way into the group of boys.

Around them, everyone was doing the same. The Hummel- Hudson family finished their quick reassurances, wrapping the two boys they had into tight hugs before releasing them. Watching the two boys sign in to an attending Peacekeeper who coldly checked off their names before pushing them into the others, Carole wiped away a tear.

Burt, looking down at her with a weak smile, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close and said, "Don't cry. They haven't been picked. The reaping hasn't even started. We go through this every year."

"Doesn't make it any easier," she said with a sniffle, "And now I have to worry about another."

Not finding the right answer, Burt simply held her tighter.

Kurt pushed his way through the mob of quiet boys, Finn following closely behind him, until Kurt found the person he was looking for. He stepped next to his boyfriend, and silently clasped his hand. Blaine turned and ghosted his lips over Kurt's before turning to look over Kurt's narrow shoulder.

"Hey Finn."

Finn nodded back.

"Hello boys." Puck said, shoving a thirteen year old aside. Mike more kindly picked his way through the crowd and joined the small group.

"Remember our promise." Kurt said to all of them, but locking his eyes with Blaine's, "No one volunteers. Whatever happens."

They all murmured in agreement and turned to the podium as the mayor coughed into the microphone.

"Good morning citizens of District 1! As you all know we're here to pick a boy and girl who will have the honor of representing District 1 in the twenty-third annual Hunger Games!" He continues the usual speech, reading off two names, the only two victors of District 1 in twenty two years of brutal games. Only one is still alive, Phebee Crippet, a woman with steel grey hair pulled into a tight bun, not a hair out of place, her piercing blue eyes watching the scene before her coldly, her face expressionless. The Mayor continued, "Please welcome Mr. Benjamin Port, our District Escort, who is here to pick our tributes," May the odds be ever in your favor!" he called, turning and handing the microphone to a large overweight man who took the mayor's place between the two glass bowls.

"Well then let's get started!" Mr. Port said with a smile, "As always, ladies first!" Diving his chubby fingers into the bowl and mixing the papers a bit before drawing out a small slip.

"Elizabeth Browning!"

Kurt breathed in sharply as he remembered the small girl from his Ancient Literature class. He heard Finn and Mike exhale slowly behind him, relived that their girlfriends' names weren't the ones called.

"Poor Elizabeth." Kurt whispered softly as he saw the petite girl shakily make her way up to the stage, looking smaller than usual next to the large Mr. Port, amidst the sobs of a woman who could only be her mother. Blaine squeezed his hand tightly.

"Time to choose our male tribute!" Mr. Port said excitedly in his Capitol drawl.

Blaine felt his heart beat faster as he watched the fat man pick a paper out of the bowl.

Licking his lips, the escort read out a name clearly.

"Blaine Anderson!"

**Credits- **

**Thank you to Jen Bondoc who created the character of Phebee Crippet! **


	4. Chapter 4 Promise Me

**As usual, I begin with an apology. Sorry for keeping you waiting and I'm so happy you're reading! So I don't disappoint anyone, I'm not going to put a time limit on the next chapter but you can expect it sometime next week. Remember, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review. **

**While I wrote this chapter I had **_**Cry**_** by Jason Walker in mind. **

**(I don't own Glee or the Hunger Games) **

Blaine froze. The initial shock faded as he thought, _well as least it isn't Kurt Hummel._

He took a step forward, untangling his hand from his boyfriend's. Not daring to look at Kurt, he kept his eyes frozen on the podium as he numbly made his way through the parting crowd towards the stage. As he started to climb the steps onto the platform, he tried to ignore the sudden cries from his lover and the sobs of his mother behind him. Blaine's eyes pricked but he straightened up and took his place next to Elizabeth. As he turned to face the crowd he caught a glimpse of a weeping Rachel, his stricken friends, his mother sobbing hysterically as his father held her close. Even Carole was crying as Burt shook his head slowly. Knowing he would break down if he saw Kurt, Blaine steadied his hazel eyes onto the ashen sky. Hopefully the camera couldn't see them glazing over.

Below, Kurt cried out, "Blaine! No!" as he pushed forward until vice-like arms pulled him back.

"Let me go!"

Finn, his arms still tightly restraining his stepbrother, spoke harshly into his ear, his voice strained, "You promised him. We all promised."

Kurt simply went limp in his stepbrother's arms, sobbing and shaking his head. Taking a shaky breath, he looked up with disbelieving eyes at his boyfriend who was standing stiffly on the platform.

"No. Not Blaine. Not Blaine" He whispered into the silent air, broken by the sobs of a mother and the pained murmurings of those who knew those who now stood on the wooden stage.

"Citizens of District 1, I give you your tributes! Elizabeth Browning and Blaine Anderson! May the odds be in their favor!" Mr. Port said gleefully, motioning the two tributes to shake hands.

Blaine turns and holds out his arm and Elizabeth puts her small pale hand in his. Hazel eyes briefly locked with watery brown eyes as the anthem plays loudly in the background.

Releasing Elizabeth's hand after a reassuring squeeze, Blaine turns back to face the crowd, holding his head high until the anthem strings out its final notes and the escort finally ushers him off the platform.

The next few minutes were blurred in Blaine's mind. He moved, detached, as Peacekeepers pushed him into a room. Looking up from his shocked reverie, Blaine looked around and noticed he was in a small room next to the train station.

He sat alone in that small room, his head in his hands, tears locked in his eyes until the door was flown open and he was drawn into a hug. Too tired to be startled, Blaine just wrapped his arms around his mother as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Sweetheart… " Mr. Anderson said gently.

"It's ok Dad." Blaine interrupted in a steady voice.

Mr. Anderson put a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "You're so brave Blaine. I'm so proud of you. I know we've had our… differences but you come home you hear? Come home. Whatever it takes." He said gruffly.

"But what if I lose myself there Dad?"

"You won't. But if you do, you have me, your mother, your friends… Kurt… to help you find yourself again. Whatever happens in that arena, no one cares. Just come home."

"I'll try Dad." Blaine replied, his voice muffled as he buried his face into his mother's neck.

"I'm going to miss you Mom and Dad."

Mrs. Anderson just sobbed louder.

Blaine pulled away gently, looking into his mother's hazel eyes, "Please stop crying. I'm not going forever."

"Of course you're not sweetheart." Mrs. Anderson said shakily, "Be brave."

"I will."

A small sniffle from the doorway made Blaine look up. He saw Kurt and froze.

"We'll give you boys some time." Mr. Anderson said quietly.

Blaine just nodded, releasing his mother as she exited the room with his father. The door clicked softly shut behind them.

Wordlessly Blaine opened his arms and Kurt flew into them. Blaine pulled him tightly against him, clinging onto him as the world seemed to shift and slip under his feet.

Kurt thought of how he would miss this. Just holding Blaine. Feeling his strong arms wrapped around him. But holding him in his arms he realized how scared Blaine was. That seemingly emotionless face on he had seen on the platform was nothing but a facade. Kurt felt Blaine's usually steady heartbeat flying and he was shaking softly.

"I love you." Blaine whispered, his voice breaking with every syllable.

"I love you too." Kurt whispered back, somehow keeping the tears in. "Come back to me. Promise you'll come back."

Blaine just held him tighter but Kurt found the strength to pull away and stare into his boyfriend's eyes.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

The door flew open and a Peacekeeper marched in.

"Blaine Anderson, time to go."

Still holding Kurt, Blaine steadily followed the soldier out the door. Outside the New Directions were waiting alongside his parents and Kurt's parents. They all poured around the couple, and Blaine felt himself hugged from every direction. He felt so safe and warm in so many arms but suddenly another pair wrenched him out and a group of Peacekeepers roughly pushed him to the train.

Feeling his hand slip from Kurt's, they hauled him onto the platform and into the train. The train door slid shut and Blaine pushed up against the glass, staring at his family and friends through the thick glass. He couldn't hear them, but he knew they were shouting. Most of them were crying, even Kurt had finally broken down into tears.

The train wrenched forwards, pulling away from the station, and Blaine stood frozen against the window as he watched District 1 quickly fade into the distance.

Finally turning away, Blaine took a shaky breath and followed a waiting attendant through the halls of the train. It was silent, everyone has already made their way to their compartments. The attendant quietly explained to him where all the essentials were. They passed by Elizabeth's room, the compartment door already sealed shut and Blaine could hear sobs from the insides. When the attendant pointed Blaine towards his room, he muttered quick thanks and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. Not bothering to change out of his clothes, he stretched out onto the small bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Hours passed and sleep didn't come. Not bearing the wait or the thoughts that flitted around in his mind, Blaine rose. Slipping out of his room he stumbled across a small waiting room, tastefully fitted with a comfy couch, a small table and… a piano.

Blaine hesitantly walked towards it. He hadn't played one since a performance at the mayor's palace two years ago. He sat at the bench, tracing his hands across the ivory keys.

He pressed down softly upon a key, hearing the warm sound. He pressed another, and then another and began to sing quietly.

_There is a house built out of stone__  
><em>_Wooden floors, walls and window sills__  
><em>_Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust__  
><em>_There is a place where I don't feel alone__  
><em>_There is a place where I feel at home_

His fingers suddenly started to fly across the keys, falling back into an old rhythm. His fingers stumbled, once, twice, but they regained the pattern. Blaine let out a small laugh, as the chords came naturally and the music quietly filled the room. __

_And I built a home__  
><em>_For you__  
><em>_For me__  
><em>_Until it disappeared__  
><em>_From me__  
><em>_From you__  
><em>_But now, it's time to leave and turn to dust_

His fingers slowed, and Blaine was brought back to the meadow, remembering the smell of Kurt, his blue eyes, his smile, the cool grass beneath his feet, the strong tree against his back. Tears finally tracked their way down his cheeks, but Blaine kept his hands on the keys and quietly sang__

_And in the garden where we planted the seeds__  
><em>_There is a tree as old as me__  
><em>_Branches were sewn by the color of green__  
><em>_Ground had arose and passed its knees___

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top__  
><em>_I climbed the tree to see the world__  
><em>_When the gusts came around to blow me down__  
><em>_I held on as tightly as you held onto me__  
><em>_I held on as tightly as you held onto me___

Blaine let the tears fall, his voice cracking but somehow gaining strength, fingers flying across the cool ivory.

_And I built a home__  
><em>_For you__  
><em>_For me___

_Until it disappeared__  
><em>_From me__  
><em>_From you___

_But now, it's time_

_To live_

_Not time_

_To die _

His fingers stilled, and he bent over the keys, letting his trapped tears out silently.

"That was beautiful" A quiet voice whispered behind him.

**Credits: **

**The song I used was **_**To Build A Home**_** by the Cinematic Orchestra. As always, I switched a few lyrics around :)**


	5. Chapter 5 Shouldn't Be A Good in Goodbye

**I have some news but I will post it in the End Note. **

**And the story carries on… **

Earlier in District 1, Kurt watched the train carrying his beloved fade away into the distance, taking him to whatever future Lady Fate had in store. Tears streamed down his face as he stood surrounded by friends and family, all trapped in this surreal moment in time.

Finally Mr. Anderson spoke softly, "I'm going to go take Alicia home." He said motioning to his wife who was frozen in his arms, the tear tracks still frozen on her beautiful face.

"That sounds like a good idea. We'll stop by later." Burt replied. Carole nodded and after giving one last kiss to Rachel, Finn followed his mother away from the scene.

"Let's go buddy." Burt gently prodded his son.

Kurt just turned and walked with father away from the tracks, Burt throwing an arm over his shaking shoulders as they walked down the dirt path towards their home.

When the family reached the worn cottage, Kurt watched Finn open the door with a creak in surprise. Everything still looked the same way the left it, even though the world seemed an entirely different place.

"Let's change these clothes and wash up. Carole, do you have anything we can take to the Andersons? They need all the support they can get right now. Alicia is in no state to be cooking or anything." Burt said gruffly.

"Of course." Carole replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Boys, want to come with us?"

"I just want to be alone for a bit." Kurt whispered softly, eyes downcast.

"Sure thing buddy," Burt replied reassuringly. "Just go change out and get some sleep."

Kurt nodded and trudged his way up the stairs to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Emotionlessly, Kurt slipped out of his clothes and into a pair of pyjamas, forgetting his moisturizing routine and just curling up onto his bed, resting his head on his pillow, closing his eyes but not falling asleep.

The sound of his stepbrother and parents leaving pulled him out of his thoughts and Kurt rose, pulling a small box out from underneath his bed.

Inside, sketches, photographs, and letters from his boyfriend laid, along with a single dried corsage, the remnants of their beautiful prom night. Kurt smiled a little at the moment, and began to leaf through the many trinkets, each bringing up a memory more beautiful than the last.

Lighting, the lamp beside him, Kurt sat and sang softly to the empty room and crinkled pages.

_After the sadness, after the last words_

_Caught in the silence, caught in between._

_After the last kiss, after the slow shock._

_Before the wave hits, the flood comes rushing in. _

_This is the bad before the worse,_

_This is the storm before the storm, _

_And you haven't even hit the bottom of this ocean floor_

_This is the bend before the break_

_This is the mercy not the grace_

_This is the proof and not the faith I try to find_

_There shouldn't be a good in goodbye. _

_If I never loved you_

_If I never felt your kiss_

_If I never had you_

_I know that I… I still would have mourned you_

_And I would have missed your smile_

_If it wasn't so worth it_

_This wouldn't be, oh this wouldn't be_

_The bad before the worse,_

_The storm before the storm, _

_And you haven't even hit the bottom of this ocean floor_

_This is the bend before the break_

_This is the mercy not the grace_

_This is the proof and not the faith I try to find_

_There shouldn't be a good in goodbye. _

_I know this is gonna get better _

_I know this has to get better _

Kurt returned the box gently, but not before taking out a small photograph of Blaine and holding it close to his heart as he curled up underneath the threadbare covers.

_This the bitter not the sweet_

_This is the take and not the keep_

_There shouldn't be a good in goodbye._

Brushing his thumb across the photo once again and tucking it under his pillow, Kurt drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"_Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine screamed "Help me! Please!" He thrashed and struggled as a larger boy hauled him up from behind and threw him across the rocks like a ragdoll. Blood poured down his face and matted his curls as he cried out in pain, until the boy reached over and picked Blaine up again, this time bringing a knife across his throat, a crimson necklace forming as the blade sliced through the soft skin, "Kurt!" _

"Kurt!"

"NO! BLAINE!" Kurt shot up, tangled in his sheets, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Kurt you have to wake up." Burt said, his eyes filled with concern.

"It was… But Blaine he… The knife…" Kurt sobbed, throwing his arms around his father.

"Shh… It was just a dream, just a dream." Burt said soothingly, rubbing circles onto his back as Kurt's breathing and heartbeat finally slowed.

"It's not fair, Dad."

"I know buddy."

"He was always there for me. He always protected me. From Karofsky, from the bullies, from everything. Now they're taking him there and I'm stuck here and I can't do anything to protect him anymore."Kurt sobbed.

"Blaine's a tough kid. He'll pull through. He'll be back." Burt whispered into his son's ear. "I know he will." As he rocked his son gently back to sleep.

**-Credits-**

**The song: **_**Shouldn't be a Good in Goodbye**_** by Jason Walker **

**I know this was kinda short but I'm on winter vacation now (yay!) so I'll be able to write more. Since I have extra time, I'm going to work a little ahead so you guys have a few options. I can: **

**a) Post as I finish**

**b) Post a little more often like twice or three times a week**

**c) Save the chapters up and continue to post them every Thursday **

**Leave what you prefer in the comments and PLEASE REVIEW you have no idea how much it means to me. Hope you're enjoying the story! **


	6. Chapter 6 No Damn Way

**Happy Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays to those who don't! 2012 this way comes! Here is your holiday gift. I present to you Chapter 6. Enjoy! **

**(Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the Hunger Games. Why are you not surprised?) **

Back on the bullet train speeding across the countryside towards the Capitol…

"That was beautiful" A quiet voice whispered behind him.

Blaine quickly reached up and wiped away his tears and spun around. There in the doorway, looking as small and vulnerable and possible was Elizabeth.

"Couldn't sleep too?" Blaine replied, his eyes softening.

Elizabeth shook her head, wrapping her arms tightly around her thin frame.

"I'll go get you something to drink. Just sit down." Blaine said walking out of the room, leaving Elizabeth to sink into the soft pillows of the couch.

When Blaine returned with two steaming mugs of cocoa, he saw Elizabeth was crying gently. Heart moving faster than his head, he placed the two mugs carefully on the table and pulled her into his lap. Surprised, Elizabeth hesitated a second before returning his embrace, but unable to stop the sobs, she buried her face into his shoulder. Blaine simply pulled her in tighter, holding her shaking body in his strong arms.

Taking deep breaths, Elizabeth felt her tears dry out but Blaine made no move to release her, both craving human comfort. They sat for hours until the sun started to rise, slowly staining the navy sky with streaks of orange and pink.

"Thank you." Elizabeth whispered softly.

"You don't have to thank me Elizabeth."

"Lizzie. Just call me Lizzie."

"Lizzie it is then." Blaine said smiling.

They were quiet for a minute before Blaine felt Eliza…Lizzie shift in his arms and look up into his eyes.

"I can't win Blaine." She said, barely audible.

"The odds aren't great for us but we all have a chance of…"

"Blaine. I can't. I have asthma."

Blaine looked into her steady grey eyes. "But can't you get treatment?"

"My family couldn't afford it in District 1. You know how expensive medicine there is."

"What about here?"

Lizzie chucked. "You seriously think they wouldn't let me take an inhaler into the arena?"

"Maybe… I don't know just try."

"Shh. It doesn't matter. But you have to win."

"But…"

"Think about it Blaine, they're going to give food and medicine to the winning District." Lizzie said, her eyes shining. "And you have to go back to Kurt. You guys are so good with each other. I see you together in Ancient Literature all the time. You can't leave him."

Blaine just tightened his arms around her, pressing her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her hair.

"And you don't deserve to die." She murmured against his chest.

"Neither do you."

Both sat in silence, as morning slowly rose around them, grey countryside flying past the windows, before Blaine broke the quiet, "I wish we were never picked. I wish none of this had happened."

"'So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.'"

He let out a small laugh. "Just like you to quote Ancient Literature at a time like this."

"You mock me sir. There is never a time _not_ to quote Ancient Literature."

Both laughed, the weight of the world lifted off their shoulders for but a moment.

"If that was my last laugh, I'm glad I shared it with you." Lizzie said quietly, as the somber atmosphere returned to the small room.

"You know what? We're not doing this." Blaine said suddenly, quickly rising. Lizzie was dislodged unceremoniously with a yelp as she landed on the floor.

She glared up at him. "What was that for?"

"Sorry about that. But there's no way we're giving up already." Blaine replied lightly over his shoulder before sitting on the piano bench, fingers poised above the keys.

Lizzie scrambled to her feet and hovered over his shoulder. "What are you doing? You're going to wait Porkeyes and our mentor up."

"Porkeyes?"

"Our escort."

Blaine chuckled, "Very fitting. And they can sleep when the games are over."

He started to sing just a he started to play, his determined voice spreading through the room.

_My mind is racing but my heart it beats faster_

_I'm in control, commander and master_

_Lady Fate creating disaster _

_But she ain't the boss of me. Nu-uh _

_Head-on collision with a catastrophic setback_

_Makes you either want to get lost or get back_

_I choose the latter, let's not forget that_

_We have the hearts this time_

_So there's no need to bitch or whine_

_There's __**no way**__ I'm gonna take another option!_

_**No way**__I'm gonna settle with a loss!_

_**No way**__ I'm gonna sit around and watch!_

_There's no no way…_

_There's __**no way**__ you're gonna find me in the background!_

_**No damn way**__ you're gonna see me satisfied!_

_**No way**__ they're ever gonna make me back down!_

_No no way…_

Elizabeth smiled and settled down next to him on the bench and sang, Blaine looking up at her in pleasant surprise as he played in tune to her clear voice.

_We got the music, the upper hand is ours_

_So the game is on!_

Blaine joined in seamlessly with a smile.

_The clock ticks, but we've got our tricks _

_To fuss with and fix what's wrong! _

She smiled as he sang to her, his voice gaining strength.

_Let's wake up and go girl_

_Take out the bad guys _

_Watch out for Porkeyes _

She laughed loudly and sang back.

_Yeah! _

Their clear and confident voices rose unified, almost shouting out the lyrics to the empty room.

_We'll take it on together_

_We're stronger and we're better _

_And if there's a problem…_

_Ha! Whatever!_

_There's __**no way**__ we're gonna leave it up to chance!_

_There's __**no damn way**__ we're gonna go without a fight!_

_**No way**__ you're gonna see us on our ass!_

_There's no no way…_

_There's __**no way**__ we're gonna settle with sorrow!_

_Leave right now if you think this ain't real!_

_Today, not waitin' for tomorrow!_

_No, no way there's no way_

_No, no way there's no way_

_No, no way there's no way_

_**THERE'S NO WAY**__!_

They both collapsed into fits of laughter over the keys, forgetting the world around them, forgetting whoever may have wanted to sleep, forgetting what had happened, what was happening.

"Well I guess since you two are up we might as well eat breakfast and get started." Phebee Crippet, the District 1 mentor, said coldly behind them, "And seems that we've found your talent Mr. Anderson. Too bad it won't win you the games."

**Credits: **

**-The quote used by Elizabeth is by J.R.R. Tolkien, from his novel ****The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring**

**- The fabulous totally awesome song is **_**No Way **_**by Starkid from their **_**A Very Potter Sequel. **_**Seriously, go listen to it! (and Darren sings it so you can really picture the scene) **

**IMPORTANT: I post updates of each chapter through my tumblr if you want to find out that way. (.com) **

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! **

**Happy holidays ;) **


	7. Chapter 7 Of Silver Bowties and Slippers

**Hoping everyone is enjoying their holidays! Happy New Year! **

Lizzie rose quickly and offered her hand to their mentor, "Hey Ms. Crippet, I'm Elizabeth Browning."

Crippet took her hand with a warm smile that couldn't quite reach her eyes, "Hello Ms. Browning."

Blaine, who had followed on Lizzie's heels, held out his hand to Crippet, smiling, "I'm Blaine Anderson."

Crippet just stared at the boy before her, ignoring his hand as she said coldly, "Pleasure."

Blaine, although confused, didn't comment on his mentor's hostility, and let his hand drop.

"You two should go wash up. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." And with that, Crippet strode out of the room.

After a minute, Lizzie, eyebrow raised, finally commented, "Brr."

Letting out a short laugh, Blaine headed off into his room, shutting the door behind him and finally taking in his quarters for the first time. It was simple, a single bed with a dresser and small entryway that led to the bathroom.

Blaine shrugged off his wrinkled button down and slacks, slipping them into the laundry hamper before heading into the bathroom. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the shower, fumbling with the multiple buttons before he finally managed to turn on a stream of water. Stepping underneath the warm spray, Blaine rinsed out his curls, rolling his shoulders as he relieved his tight muscles. Switching off the shower, he grabbed a big white towel and dried himself off before slipping into a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white t-shirt -the closest thing he could get to "normal".

Blaine exited his room and stepped into the dining room where Porkeyes (their portly district escort), Crippet, and Lizzie were already seated alongside two unfamiliar faces.

"You're late Anderson." Crippet said coldly, "Take a seat."

"Sorry…" Blaine muttered as he slid into a chair beside Lizzie, ignoring Crippet's cold stare and turning his attention to the food before him, his stomach treacherously growing.

"Go ahead, it isn't poisonous!" Porkeyes said with a laugh, winking at the two hesitant teenagers, who didn't need any more encouragement.

After everyone had eaten and admittedly bursting at the seams, Porkeyes spoke again, "Time for some introductions! Ms. Browning, meet your stylist Mr. Roger Hawkins," a tall man with brown hair and purple eyes nodded in acknowledgement, "And Mr. Anderson meet Steven York, you're stylist," an older man with white hair and green eyes gave a small wave. "These two will be responsible for making you guys look presentable as well as fabulous to the Capitol audience. Both are experienced so you should have nothing to worry about!"

Crippet eyed the scene with her steel grey eyes disgusted at Porkeyes's cheeriness and interrupted blankly, "Well now that the introductions are over we can be concerned with more pressing matters. let's go to the main-room to watch a replay of the reapings. We need to see your competition." And with that she rose and dragged Lizzie to her feet, calling back, "Anderson you too."

Blaine rose silently and followed the two into the main-room, the stylists and the escort closely behind him, before taking a seat in front of a television, as far from his mentor as possible but still next to Lizzie.

Crippet switched on the screen and the group watched as District 1 flickered onto the screen. Blaine shut his eyes as he heard his name called once again in the television, not wanting to relive to scene again. His eyes pricked as he heard Kurt's cries emerging from the speaker but he kept his screwed shut.

"It's over." Lizzie whispered from beside him.

Opening his eyes and giving her a small nod of thanks Blaine settled down and watched the rest of the districts, watching as strangers became his enemies. He ignored the calls from the families of those strangers, shutting his eyes when things became emotional. He felt Lizzie wipe a tears from her pales cheeks before she followed his example. The districts passed by in a blur, no one truly standing out. All Blaine could comprehend or even possibly care about was that the majority were significantly larger, better fed, and probably stronger than he was. It didn't matter which district they came from or what life they were leaving behind, he was going to be thrust into an arena with them regardless, and only one was coming out.

Once all 24 names were called, Crippet switched off the television, "The train will be pulling into the station soon so just stay put for now. Once you get off, you will follow your stylists into the Remake Center where you will begin to prepare for tonight's opening ceremonies. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that she briskly left.

When the cold woman had left the room Blaine shot out of his chair and headed towards the window, pulling away the curtains and staring out in awe as the world flew past him. Lizzie joined him and they stood watching as the Capitol eased into view, a collection of tall buildingsand bright colors. The train slipped into the station and stuttered to a halt, and remembering Crippet's orders, the two District 1 tributes followed their stylists into a white building.

York called out, "Mr. Anderson you're coming with me. Let's go!"

Blaine shot one last look at Lizzie before following his stylist down clean white halls, drowning out the older man's incessant chatter.

"Here we are! Go inside and meet your prep team and get prepped while I get the final bits of your costume set up." York said cheerfully, shoving Blaine through a set of sliding doors.

Strange men and women in white stripped him down and after a great deal of plucking, ripping, snipping, shaving, brushing, powdering, polishing and gelling, Blaine, now clad in a simple white robe, looked up into the mirror with shock.

He was barely recognizable. His dark hair was cut and gelled into a helmet, his curls tamed and gone. Gone were the dark circles under his eyes and any blemish on his body. His skin, polished and shaved, was void of any hair and was a healthy tan glow, nails rounded and punk. His eyebrows were plucked into perfect triangles, his hazel eyes shining brightly. The attractive yet unkept boy from District 1 had disappeared, and in his place sat a dapper young gentleman.

The stranger in the mirror looked at him uneasily, until he was whisked away by the people around him and into another room.

"Oh Blaine you look splendid! Well done prep team!" York exclaimed as those around him burst out in cheers. "Now to get you dressed! We're cutting it close!" He said as everyone wizzed into action again, standing still as pins poked and prodded. Finally, after all necessary adjustments were made, York handed to him a pile of clothes.

Blaine wordlessly took them and slipped them on, reveling at the feel of the luxurious materials against his skin. The outfit was simple, a dark grey with a silk white undershirt. Understated but neat, it screamed elegance and demanded respect. The stranger in the mirror, clad in such finery, finally smiled.

"Thank you York! Everything looks great!" He said. If only Kurt could see him now…

"Yes yes it looks fine but something's missing… I'm not sure what." York hummed, tapping his fingers against his head.

Hazel eyes studied the room around him until they stilled and he gasped. There upon a pile of fabrics, lay a silver bowtie, delicate pearly patterns stitched onto it.

Blaine grabbed it and looked pleadingly at his stylist, "Please?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Come on! I've always wanted to wear one and since this might be my last time…"He trailed off, his eyes taking on a puppy dog quality.

"Fine!" York replied with an exaggerated sigh, but unable to stop his lips from twitching upwards. "Now hold still!"

Blaine, almost bouncing, stilled for a moment as York clipped the bowtie to his collar and adjusted it.

"Okay we're done!" York smiled. "Spin slowly."

Blaine did what he was told, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Perfect! Absolutely splendid!" York laughed, pulling Blaine out of the room and into the hallway where they were greeted by Lizzie and her stylist.

Although knowing the extent of his own transformation, Blaine couldn't keep the surprise off his face when he saw what had happened to Lizzie.

She was clad in a short silver dress swirled with grey and white patterns. It was short, reaching the middle of her thigh and her feet were covered with dainty silver slippers. Her hair shimmered in blonde curls to the middle of her back. Her makeup was dramatically done, silver and black eyeliner sweeping into long wings beside her grey eyes.

She shot a glare at Blaine, "Stop staring. And aren't you gay?" she said trying to tug her dress down but to no avail.

"Of course I am. But you look… different. Fabulous, but different."

"So do you."

Blaine offered an arm, "If I may my lady?"

"Why of course dear gentleman."

Both tributes fell into a fit of giggles as they linked arms and followed their stylists down to the bottom level of the Remake center, which is essentially a giant stable. Around them tributes were being loaded onto chariots drawn by two well trained horses that would drive them through the crowds.

Porkeyes was there beside District 1's white chariot and snow-white horses, "Wonderful! Dare I say Ms. Browning you look gorgeous and Mr. Anderson you look dashing." He gasped when he saw them, offering well received congratulations to their excited stylists.

Ushering them onto the chariots and positioning them correctly, Porkeyes gave them a few last minute instructions, giddy with excitement, "Remember, we're looking for elegant and royal so wave the crowd regally. And smile, but not too widely. Got that?"

Lizzie and Blaine nodded uneasily.

"Okay so we're set! Good luck out there! The crowd will _love _you." He said with a final wink, patting the horses which moved as trained to the wide doors, preparing to exit when the time came.

Blaine felt his heartbeat quicken. Here at the head of the column he could hear the commotion from the other chariots behind him, but he was too overwhelmed with the sound of the crowd beyond the doors to dare to look back.

The music begins, and the massive doors slide open revealing the crowd-lined streets. Taking a shaky breath and holding his head up high, Blaine feels the carriage lurch, the horses leading them into the roar.

**-Author's Note- **

**(more information in next chapter which will probably be updated on Sunday because its 12:15am now and I'm sleepy ;p.)**

**Thanks for hanging around! I'd say we can have the games started by the chapter after next. How does that sound? **

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter 8 A Grand Entrance

**Happy New Year everyone! Bring on 2012! There's an awful lot of me blabbing and explaining this chapter but you're gonna have to swallow it because there are some important updates that will pertain to the rest of the story. SORRY! :'''( **

*******READ THIS! IMPORTANT!******

**Ok I'm going to start doing something different so I can alternate back and forth between District 1 and the Capitol/Arena. If it gets confusing just tell me and I'll split them into separate chapters, but I sort of thought some of you would want Kurt's POV as… "stuff"…. happens. **

**So Kurt's POV will be in **_**ITALICS**_**while Blaine's will be ****NORMAL.**

**If they end up singing, the lyrics will be in the ****opposite****. For example, when Kurt's singing it look like this: **

"_**Kurt began to sing, letting his clear voice fill the air: **_

**Blackbird singing in the dead of night**

_**He stuttered to a halt as the author made her point."**_

**and Blaine will be the usual. Make sense? **

**Whenever this gets confusing, do not hesitate to tell me. But I'm going try it out for this chapter and we'll see how it goes. So this will be a short chapter. **

"_Look it's starting!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing to the giant screen suspended in the city centre. The population of the entire district was huddled together, their eyes glued to the screen as the opening ceremonies began, the Capitol anthem blasting out of giant speakers. _

_The families of the two tributes sat in front, with the New Directions and their families beside them. Kurt shook gently until he felt a warm hand grip his shoulder. _

"_It'll be all-right sport. It's only the opening ceremonies. He isn't in any danger yet."Burt whispered reassuringly to his son._

"_All those people. He must be so scared." _

_Before Burt could reply, the giant doors within the screen slid open and a white chariot stepped out. Kurt felt his heart catch in his throat, blue eyes eagerly looking at the screen to catch the first glimpse of his boyfriend. _

A wall of sound slammed into Blaine as his chariot walked out, the crowds of the Capitol screaming at the sight of the first tributes. He drew in a shaky breath, feeling so small. Remembering Kurt, his family, and friends would be watching, he forced a smile onto his face, lifting his chin up, straightening his shoulders, and waving regally to the crowd. Blaine felt his small smile turning genuine as he saw how much the people loved them, screaming their approval at the prince and princess atop the ivory chariot.

_Everyone within the square drew in a collective breath and gasped as the camera finally was trained upon their tributes. _

_Kurt's eyes widened as he saw Blaine for the first time. He was barely recognizable with the small smile playing across his lips, his head held high, his curls tamed, his tan skin contrasting sharply again the pearl white of his shirt and grey jacket. Kurt's trained eyes instantly took in the value of the material but Blaine was wearing them like a second skin. As if he was born in them. _

_He didn't even just look different; Blaine was taking on a different persona entirely. He was no longer Blaine, the dork who twirled Kurt around in flowery meadows and was ridiculously attached to a rusted bike and sang Disney songs to whoever would listen. He was no longer a boy who was driven away by bullies and broke every afternoon under the weight of huge rolls of fabric. He was Blaine Anderson, a District 1tribute, eyes clear and sparkling, face and small smile oozing arrogance, elegance, and respect. _

_Kurt felt his knees weaken at the strength of their entrance and deep inside of him he felt something flicker and rumble in his gut, something that had flitted away and disappeared the moment he heard Blaine's name read off a small slip of paper. _

_Hope. _

_Around his people were having similar reactions. No one could remember the time when District 1 had made such an entrance, had looked so _strong_. _

"_Oh they look beautiful." Rachel gasped, hand to her heart._

"_Not beautiful, fucking brilliant." Puck said, his eyes trained to the screen. _

_Suddenly Rachel shot up with a laugh and began to clap, everyone around her doing the same and District 1 erupted in loud applause. _

_Mrs. Anderson wiped away a single tear off her smiling face, Mr. Anderson holding her tightly, a look of pride etched upon his face. _

"_Damn that Elizabeth has a nice ass on her. She looks hot." Puck said before Finn smacked him, "Hey dude chill, just sayin'." _

"_She looks gorgeous." Quinn agreed with a smile. _

_Mercedes gently elbowed Kurt "And your man doesn't look too shabby either." She said with a wink. _

_Kurt, his eyes still glued to his boyfriend enlarged upon the screen, feeling his mouth twisting upwards, his voice breathless as he replied, "Not too shabby at all." _

"_Not too shabby? Anderson looks boss." Puck butted in. _

"_Puck, has anyone told you that you talk way too much?" Finn sighed. _

_Puck just snorted. _

_The other chariots replaced the pearly white one on the giant screen, eliciting a general groan from the crowd, but they studied the opposition nonetheless. District 4 was looking fabulous in ocean blue netting and bronze trident crowns, District 2 looking dangerous in bright chain mail embedded with blood-red jewels, and District 12 was looking horrendous (as usual) covered in nothing but coal dust. Other than that, no one district really made any sort of impact. _

_District 1 watched eagerly as the twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every window is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol, using dainty opera glasses to admire the tribute and pick their favorites. The horses pull the chariots right up to President's Snow mansion where both they and the music halt with a flourish. _

_The President begins to give his official welcoming speech, and the camera cuts away to the faces of each tribute. Kurt feels his heart almost burst with pride when Blaine's face fills the screen after Elizabeth. He was looking directly at the camera, and gave a subtle wink before the lens, almost regrettably, continued on to District 2. _

_When the national anthem plays, the camera does a quick cut around to each pair of tributes, but then it holds on the District 1 chariot as it parades the circle one last time and disappears into the Training Centre. _

**Yes I do know that this was a very short one but I had to be absolutely sure that this isn't too confusing so I can apply it in later chapters. **

**And I know I said that Chapter 8 would be the one before the games, but you have to bear with me one more chapter, and I do apologize for that. You can 105% expect the games ****CHAPTER 10.**** So that means you will be settling in for a long chapter this Thursday if that's allright. **

**Again, please please get back to me on this so I don't end up confusing you. And thank you all so very much. The very fact you are reading this means the world to me. May the odds be ever in your favor. **


	9. Chapter 9 Going the Distance

**How proud is everyone of Darren right now? Broadway! How amazing! **

**I still can't believe that people want to read this. I am so thankful for all of you guys, you don't even know.**

**WARNING: Mentions of implied rape and homophobic references in this chapter. Not too much but it's there just so you know. **

**Now that that's all cleared up, settle down, grab a snack, and get comfortable because this is going to be a long one. ;)**

The chariot pulled into the Training Centre amidst laughter and cries of joy. Congratulations were passed around, hugs received and given, smiles on every face. Almost as if everyone around the two young people wasn't preparing to send them to their deaths.

"Congratulations to everyone. Well well done. Maybe this won't be as hopeless as I expected. Now Ms. Browning, Anderson, you should go get some sleep. It will be a very busy day tomorrow." Crippet said emotionlessly.

Blaine raised an eyebrow and asked, "What are we doing?"

"Why I was just getting to that. No need to be so impatient Anderson." Crippet replied icily. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to meet with each of you individually to discuss strategies, then you will head over to training where you will work on your skills. In the evening, you will show your skills, if you possess any, to the Gamemakers and you will receive a score that will help determine your odds in the arena, and help the audience choose who to bet for."

York nodded at her words before continuing, "The next day we will have the whole day with you to prepare for your interviews."

After a moment of silence, Lizzie whispered shakily, "So-"

"Yes Ms. Browning. The games will begin in two days. So you best be off to bed and getting some rest. You have some long days ahead of you." She glanced at Blaine, "Both of you."

Without another word, the two tributes headed off to their respective chambers, discarding their finery and climbing onto the soft mattresses, before settling into an unsettled sleep.

A low whistle awoke Blaine with a start. He blinked sun from his eyes, and lazily sat up, moving to brush his hand through his curls but finding his hair still trapped in the helmet it had been styled into the day before.

Someone was speaking through the intercom. Porkeyes. Blaine stood and walked over to the speaker before muttering into the microphone, "I'm up."

"Good good very good! You have a long day ahead of you -"

"So I've been told."

"Yes of course. Breakfast is being sent to your room. Ms. Browning is meeting with your mentor now. Go eat, clean up, and get dressed. You will be heading to training directly from your meeting. Understand?"

"Yes, thank you." Blaine replied politely before switching of the intercom.

He headed off to the shower, pleasantly surprised that he did not struggle removing the gel because the water seemed programmed to do just that. Moments later he stepped out, feeling a sigh of relief when his fingers easily slipped through his damp curls. A tiny piece of normalcy he intended to cling onto for as long as he possibly could, or until York next saw him.

Blaine zipped up the navy and red track suit that had been laid out for him on the dresser. Turning to look in the floor length mirror beside him, Blaine was slightly startled at the sight. The track suit's material accentuated his muscles and the cut seemed to make him appear a few inches taller. With his dark curls, still somewhat tame because of the trimming they had endured yesterday, and naturally tanned skin, he looked handsome and dangerous. A formidable opponent. Feeling some of the confidence he had yesterday return, Blaine ate from the breakfast that had been prepared for him, and settled down onto his bed to wait.

Not long after, Porkeyes voice reemerged from the intercom, informing him that it was his turn.

Stepping into the hallway and making his way to the main room, Blaine ran into Lizzie, still clad in her pyjamas.

"Good luck!" She whispered before slipping silently into her chamber to get ready.

Blaine hesitated outside the entrance to the room, before taking in a deep breath and stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a click.

"Anderson take seat." Crippet said as he entered, not looking up from her notes.

Blaine did as he was told and sat in the seat opposite his mentor. After a few minutes, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally, Crippet did look up at him, ensnaring his hazel eyes with her stormy grey ones. "What do we have here? Tell me, what exactly do you do in District 1?"

"Umm… I go to school… I work at the fabric mill, like storing fabrics and stuff. I play music and-"

"No hunting, fishing, trapping, running, anything?"

"Well I lift things…"

"Unimportant. You're just like the rest of them. Another princess from District 1."

"No I-"

"Don't start with me Anderson. You obviously aren't going to be able to pull off the whole strong persona. You're not tough. You have a pretty face but you're idiot stylist already made you out to be too much of a schoolboy to appear sexy. Everyone here thinks you're a fairy…" Crippet paused before leaning back in her chair, elegantly folding her hands in her lap while something behind her eyes lit up, "So that's exactly what we're going to give them."

"Excuse me?"

"Blaine Anderson, dapper schoolboy and gentleman. Handsome, charming, sings like a dream. You're going to target the hearts of the audience. Make them love you."

"But I'm strong. I can fight."

"No you can't. That boy from District 2 can crush you between his fingers in an instant. Listen to me Anderson, and listen to me closely. Inside and outside the arena you are going to be winning over the love of the audience. I always hear that you are the one who 'doesn't deserve to die'. And although I don't believe a word of it, you're going to have to convince these idiots in the Capitol. The bigger fanbase you have, the better off you'll be. Because without help, _you will lose_. Clear?"

Blaine hesitated before looking steadily back into her eyes, meeting them without a flinch. "Crystal."

"Perfect. That's what we want. You can sing right? Prepare a piece."

"Why?"

"You'll see. Just practice one tonight. With the piano."

"I don't understand."

"And I frankly don't care. You'll listen to what I'm saying regardless if you want to live."

"Yes ma'am." Blaine sighed, looking down at his feet.

"And Anderson, best not mention your sexuality." Crippet said quietly.

"What? Why? I'm proud of who I am and I'm not afraid of what they think. And I want Kurt to know-"

Crippet looked back up at him, eyes flashing, "Oh and I suppose you _want_ to go home too? Since when has this ever been about what you want Anderson? You don't _want_ the support of the crowd, you will _need _it. And half that audience won't support you if they know you're gay. If you ever find your way out of the arena, then feel free to say whatever the hell you want. But as long as I'm your mentor and you want to win, then you'll stay hidden away in that little closet of yours. So you will avoid questions mentioning any lover back at home, and you will not speak to descriptively of one."

"Understood."

"Better. Now get out of my sight. Training begins soon and you don't want to be late for that do you?"

The boy stood and headed out the door, but paused. Looking over his shoulder he called back to the cold woman still seated in the chair, "Ms Crippet?"

"What do you want Anderson?"

"Thank you."

Crippet was silent for a moment. And as Blaine exited, he heard the reply, "Only doing my job." Shaking his head, Blaine left her behind, and waited beside the elevator for Lizzie.

When she finally emerged, similarly dressed, her hair back to that wispy bun, they called for the elevator. When the door slid open and they stepped inside they realized they were not alone. Inside with them were the two tributes from District 2, also clad in navy and red track suits.

The female (Blaine faintly recalled her name was Maria) looked on at them coldly, while her partner, a large burly boy with black hair slicked back, sneered down at Blaine, and shoved him against the back of the elevator.

"Hey what's your problem?" Blaine exclaimed, moving back to retaliate but being held back by Lizzie.

"Oooh we got a feisty little fairy this year don't we? Not sure what you're doing heading to training. District 1 fairies don't last five minutes in the arena. You're wasting your time." He laughed as he left the elevator when they had reached the gymnasium. Maria following shortly behind him.

Blaine strode out angrily, running his hand over his face.

Lizzie softly placed her hand on his shoulder, "Forget about him. He's just trying to get in your head."

"Well mission successful. Who does he think he is? Writing us off before the games have even started." Blaine snarled, but calming a little at her friendly touch. "Who is that guy anyway?"

"Colin Joules. Remember he was the one who volunteered? He actually wants to play this game. You know what, just ignore it and let's get started. Where do you want to head off to first?"

Blaine looked around the enormous gymnasium, littered with stations, each for a different purpose, ranging from weapons usage to knowledge of edible plants. "How about outdoor survival?"

"Sounds good, let's go. God knows we're going to need it."

A few hours later, the two District 1 tributes completed all the survival courses. After mastering how to skin animals, which plants to eat or use as medicine, how to stitch wounds and tend to infections, and light a fire in virtually any circumstance, the quick learners moved on to strength exercises. Before them was an obstacle course, complete with jumps, twists and turns. Blaine, naturally fit and quick on his feet, weaved effortlessly through the course at a high speed, much to the awe of the attendant and a few tributes that had stopped to watch the small boy fly through track. Oblivious to the small audience he had attracted, Blaine completed the course in record time. He panted softly, a smile on his face as he spun around to look for Lizzie, and noticed her doubled over midway through the course. Jogging over to her, Blaine looked on, concerned at her heavy breathing.

"Tired already? But we just started."

Lizzie just wheezed.

"It's you asthma isn't it? We can stop if you want."

"No…" Elizabeth coughed. "You go on… I'll just…. Sorry…. I'll just go back to camouflage. You go."

"Are you sure?"

The petite girl just waved him away, and headed back to the survival stations.

Blaine watched as she left, concerned by how little she was able to last, before heading off to the weapons station. Avoiding the bows and arrows, he listened intently as the instructor explained to him how to throw a spear, and how much force would be needed for it to pierce the skin. After an hour, Blaine managed to throw the spear from an incredible distance with great accuracy. Satisfied with his newfound skill, he moved onto the swords and knives.

There the instructor looked him up and down before asking, "Any previous experience with any sort of blade?"

"Not really."

"Figured as much. Take this." He sighed, throwing Blaine a short but heavy sword. "How does that feel?"

"Uh… good?" Blaine replied, shifting it in his grip.

"Well at least you're holding it right. Okay, come at me." The man instructed, holding up his own blade, but stopping Blaine as soon as he started to swing. "Listen, I saw you at the obstacle course. You're a quick little dude. And strong too. Not to mention you've got quite a set of lungs, noticing how long you've gone without a break. But you have to be smart and play to your strengths. Now attack again, but make sure you cover your vitals, and use your speed as an advantage."

Blaine did as he was told, and after some practice, began to get the feel of stepping in and out of the challenges, bending over quickly as the blade whizzed past his ear.

"Good, good. Quick reflexes. Let's work on your defense?" The instructor said, teaching Blaine was to block and parry the strikes.

"Excellent. I think we're done here. Remember, stay defensive and avoid as many strikes from your opponent as you can. Use your speed and move out of the way. Only when you have a clear window strike. Only then. All you need is one well timed blow."

"Thanks." Blaine said breathlessly.

"No problem. My mom was born in District 1 so I'm rooting for you. Don't disappoint."

"I won't. Thanks again."

The intercom buzzed, "Tributes! Time to show your skills to the game makers. You will be called one by one according to District, females first. Once you're dismissed, please feel free to continue to practice individually until curfew is called. We'll start with Elizabeth Browning, District 1."

Winking at Blaine, Lizzie disappeared through two large doors at the end of the gymnasium.

Knowing his turn was soon to come, Blaine walked over to the water station, drinking his fill and washing his face, combing his sweaty curls back with his fingers into some sense of order.

"Blaine Anderson, District 1."

Straightening up, Blaine headed over to the two large doors.

"Good luck in there Princess!" Colin jeered, some of the other tributes laughing along with him. Rolling his eyes, Blaine steps through the doors and into another gymnasium, only this is much smaller.

The Gamemakers are situated onto a raised platform and look down at him. Heart fluttering in his chest, Blaine heads over to an obstacle course set up and weaves through it with ease. At its end he throws spears into targets and suspended dummies, thrilled with his accuracy. Above him, a few of the Gamemakers nod in approval, but most remain emotionless.

"Thank you Mr. Anderson. You are dimissed." One of them calls down to him. Remembering Crippet's words, Blaine gives an elegant bow, and exits, exhaling in relief.

"How did you do?" Lizzie, waiting for him by the door, asks.

"Fine I guess. Better than I thought. You?"

"Not good. Couldn't breathe. So I just ended up lighting fires and working on camouflaging a dummy."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? I'll reveal my wicked skills in the arena." She laughs, but the smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I'm exhausted. Heading back up. Coming?"

"I don't think so. Think I'm going to stay and work a little on hand to hand combat."

"You'll miss dinner."'

"I'm not hungry. You go on ahead." Blaine says with a smile.

"You're loss." Lizzie replies, going back to the elevator.

Blaine walked over to the combat station. The instructor was gone, headed home like all the others, but Blaine slid on a black punching gloves and strapping them securely to his wrists, and strode over to a punching bag and began striking it.

For hours he was there, pounding away at the firm sack, forgetting himself in the repetitive movements. The lights in the gymnasium dimmed, and soon Blaine was left alone, still working hard on each hit. After a while, he slipped off the jacket of the training suit, leaving himself in a white tank. Sweating profusely, damp curls falling into his eyes, muscles rippling and aching with the effort, he refused to stop. Not slowing for an instant, lost in thought.

A cold voice awoke him from his reverie. "Ms. Browning told me you were still down here." Crippet said.

Blaine ignored her and continued to hit.

"You missed dinner. And the announcement of the scores. Ms. Browning got a four, the poor thing. But you got a nine. Out of twelve. That's an excellent score. One of the highest. You should be proud."

Finally, he spun around, eyebrows furrowed and eyes flashing. "What is your problem with my anyway? Ever since I got here you've given me nothing but crap."

Crippet stared at him, shocked.

Now before you continue dear reader, you must know that Pheebee was not always the cold woman she is now. Growing up, Pheebe never considered herself good looking. As a teen she was very awkward and guarded around other people, especially to guys. She would cringe to human touch. She preferred to be left alone. She was considered different from those of her same age. Despite her ineptness, she had one girl friend named Maya, who she loved as a sister. Maya was her complete opposite, and when guys began to take notice of her she enjoyed the attention.

A month before the reaping of Pheebee's games, they were 17, Maya forced her to join a small gathering with some boys of their district, boys who grew up in the richer side of the town, boys who could get everything that they wanted. Maya left with one, leaving Pheebee alone. Then unthinkable happened. She was attacked by a group of boys, hands snaring, grabbing, trapping, taking from her the one thing she had refused to give to anyone. She was alone, with no one to defend her, no one to see them or hear her muffled cries and pleas.

When Maya's name was reaped, she immediately volunteered. To some this was a sign of true friendship. To Maya it was all confusion, relief, and fear. To Pheebee it was finally her escape. But somehow, she had managed to survive the games through sheer will. And before her, stood a boy looking so like one of those who had attacked her that one fateful night, but so like herself in his determination.

"I'm sorry Anderson." She said softly. "Life. The Games. This place." She chuckled, "It's made me who I am. And I've never had a reason to believe anyone of you could win. But you, there's something about you. You might have a chance. And I am honored, to be your mentor." She trailed off, looking up and holding out her hand to the boy who stood panting before her.

Blaine looked at his mentor, resigned. With a sigh, he slipped off his gloves and put them aside, taking the woman's surprisingly small hand in his own. "Thank you."

Pulling her hand away slowly, she cleared her throat, "You best be getting some rest. There is some food in your quarters in case you're hungry. You're going to have to be alert for your interview tomorrow."

The tribute just nodded and headed back up to his quarters, showering and eating the small meal left for him before sinking down into the mattress, the day's exhaustion finally catching up to him as sleep dragged him under for the first time since his arrival at the Capitol.

The following day, Blaine was allowed some extra hours of sleep (considering he didn't have to learn how to walk in heels) before York and the prep team whisked him away to prepare him for his interview.

The day passed in a multicolored blur, as the prep team retrimmed and refined him, for what could be the last time. By the end, Blaine's hair was back in its tamed helmet and he was dressed simply and smartly in a black silk suit, a white oxford underneath, and a matching black silk bowtie, much to his delight. His tanned skin shimmered slightly and his hazel eyes sparkled. After a few last minute pointers from York regarding his stage persona, he was given the pass, and followed York to an area where all the tributes were settling down, waiting for the announcement that would bring them back into the eyes of the Panem. After all, every single citizen of the recently restitched nation would be watching.

Wishing him luck, York disappeared behind the thick metal screen, where he would take a seat with the other stylists among the crowd. Lizzie appeared, as striking as her first appearance in the opening ceremonies in a little black dress with giant silver heels, her shimmering blonde hair done up in elegant ringlets atop her head.

Soon the attendants are ordering the tributes into a single line, preparing them to parade onto the stage. Blaine takes his place behind Lizzie, who would be first. Soon the okay is given and the tributes step onto the stage, cameras whirling and flashing, crowds cheering, the spotlights shining upon them with a heat of a thousand suns.

Somehow managing to remember Crippet's instruction, Blaine holds his chin high and the small smile back to playing on his rosy lips, as the tributes walk single-file to their seats and take their places in an arc around the stage.

Ceaser Flickerman, the host for two years, is back, his hair taking on a deep green color, gold patterns and eyeliner stenciled onto his face, with a matching suit walks onto the stage with a skip in his step, arms wide as if embracing the audience and they scream their approval. Ceaser is an excellent host, always doing his best to make every tribute shine, making the most boring and timid of interviews timeless. He tells a few jokes, as always, to warm up the crowd, before finally motioning for the interviews to begin.

Lizzie joins him in the centre of the stage and the interview begins, but Blaine is too nervous to pay attention. Instead, he tries to calm his heart as it races, looking up into the sky, excited at seeing a few stars peek from behind the horizon.

Each interview only lasts three minutes, and soon the buzzer sounds, and Blaine rises to take his place next to the host. He shakes his hand warmly before turning to the audience and giving them a winning smile, giving his now signature small wink to the crowd, the cameras in a frenzy to catch it.

"Well well Mr. Blaine Anderson you have created quite buzz since arriving here at the Capitol. A stunning entrance in the opening ceremonies and a ten in training! You are shaping up to be one of this year's surprises." The crowd screams and cheers at who has soon become one of the fan favorites, Ceaser just laughs and asks the boy, "Tell me how fun is that, that reaction is unreal!"

"I know but it makes me feel like there's a zombie behind me." He replies with a smile as the crowd laughs.

"No it's all you all you!"

"Well then thank you." Blaine nods, looking straight into the cameras and at the audience.

"Now, handsome boy like yourself must have girls falling to your feet back at home. Anyone one special?"

Blaine blinks, but replies smoothly without missing a beat, Crippet's caution ringing in his mind, "In fact I do. I'm in love actually."

A hush falls over the audience.

"And how did you know that she's 'the one'?"

"Well, there's this moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh there you are. I've been looking for you forever'." He says quietly amidst a few sighs from the audience who were hanging on to his every word.

"Then I take it as you're a hopeless romantic. Are you a fan of Valentine's Day?"

"Honestly I am, I think there's something really great about a day where you're encouraged to lay it all on the line and say to somebody, 'I'm in love with you'."

"So you're going to be out there in that arena, fighting for love as it were?"

"Not entirely. My main goal now is to get back to my family, loved ones, and friends back at home. And of course, I wouldn't want to disappoint the fans here either because there's not a damn thing that I do on my own that's not for my fans or for people that have supported me. So I don't really care about my agenda, I wanna be on yours." Blaine laughs, motioning to the audience who are now on their feet roaring.

"Look at this reaction from the citizens here. Unbelievable. But honestly, you probably aren't that new to making a crowd cheer are you?"

"Really, and why would you say that?"

"Let's just say a little birdie flew by and told me that you are quite a performer in District 1."

"I am. I love to sing and I perform with a few friends in school. I love it."

"Well then you wouldn't mind giving us a little taste would you?" Turning to the audience Ceaser shouts, "Who wants to hear Blaine sing?" The crowd screams their approval, and attendants wheel out a piano. The eager host turns to Blaine, "I know it's impromptu but do you think you could manage a short piece for us?"

Blaine steals a look at Crippet in the audience and she winks slyly back at him. "Why not?" The crowds are about to burst, and a sudden hush falls over them as Blaine takes a seat on the piano bench and begins to play, the warm notes cutting dreamily through the crisp air. He begins to sing softly, his liquid voice magnified through hundreds of speakers and recorded by thousands microphones and being broadcasted all over Panem.

_I have often dreamed of a far off place_

_Where a hero's welcome will be waiting there for me_

_And the crowds will cheer when they see my face_

_And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be_

_I will find my way_

_I can go the distance_

_I'll be there someday_

_If I can be strong_

_I know every mile will be worth my while_

_I will go almost anywhere to feel like I belong_

His fingers delicately slide across the keys, hitting every chord right, a beautiful symphony of sounds rising from the stage.

_I will beat the odds_

_I can go the distance_

_I will face the world, fearless, proud and strong_

_I will beat the odds_

_I can go the distance_

_Until I find my hero's welcome waiting in your arms_

Blaine finished and stands, giving an elegant flourished bow to the audience.

The Capitol is silent for a moment before it erupts into cheers and amidst it the buzzer sounds and Ceasar laughs, "While I'm so sure we would love to have you stay, I'm afraid time's up. But you'll be a very tough act to follow. Well best of luck to you, Blaine Anderson, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours. Now District 2, you're up!"

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Blaine takes his seat, breathless and sweating slightly, a look of relief across on his face as the cameras reluctantly move to the next tribute. And as he settles down for the remaining interviews, he's oblivious to the fact that miles away, a slender blue eyed boy in District 1 remains standing and clapping, happy tears running on tracks down his face as he knows that underneath the finery, the boy who sings Disney songs and serenades him in flowery meadows, remains unchanged.

**Credits:**

**-The song used is Darren Criss's rendition of **_**Go the Distance **_**from Disney's "Hercules". You can listen to it here: **.com/watch?v=RSJ5SvgmlDQ

**-Some lines were taken from Darren Criss's interviews, Glee Season 2, and ****The Hunger Games**** by Suzanne Collins. Credit where it's due. **

**-The character Phebee Crippet as well as her backstory is by the wonderful Jen Bondoc who is a close friend of mine. Many warm thanks to her. **

**Author's Note: **

**Since this was so incredibely long (and still not done) I've decided to split Chapter 9 up so I don't end up bombarding you with too much. The second part of Chaper 9 will be posted ****TOMORROW****. **

**Okay, so please please please all dignity aside I am literally on my knees begging you to review. They make me so happy and really give me the strength to carry on. Reviews are like oxygen 3**

**And thank you all so very much for reading. Hugs to all and hopefully you'll be back tomorrow to finish Chapter 9! **


	10. Chapter 9 Part 2

**Time to continue Chapter 9… **

Kurt walked down the road with a skip in his step, rushing down the muddy words as the rain started to pour. He was on his way to the Andersons' place, where his family and friends were already waiting. The success of Blaine's interview today and his overall affect at the Capitol had put a smile on his face. Maybe there was some hope.

But nothing could overshadow the small tingling in the back of his mind and his smile faltered. The games were to begin tomorrow. Tomorrow, Blaine would be rising out into god knows what type of arena. He would be hurt, bloodied, maybe killed…

Shaking his head quickly as if the dark thoughts could fall off, Kurt managed to bring the smile as he knocked the door of the small stone cottage which was Blaine's home. _Is Blaine's home_, Kurt tsked to himself and let himself him in at the a call from within told him to get out of the rain.

Kurt shook his brown hair out, droplets flying around. Looking up he said with a smile, "Hey everyone! Wait what…" Kurt was shocked to see everyone solemn. Mrs. Anderson was crying softly as was Lea and Brittany, everyone else with stony and sad expressions. "Why are you crying?"

"Because Blaine's going to his goddamn death tomorrow." Mr. Anderson snapped, but then ran his hand over his face, and movement so much like his son, "Sorry Kurt it's just…"

Kurt just stared, confused, something bubbling deep inside of him."But he's been doing great. The interview, the opening ceremonies, the score…. Blaine's coming back. Why are you crying?" He asked, his voice shaking softly.

"Kurt sweetie…" Carole began soothingly.

But her stepson shook his head violently, saying quietly, voice quivering. "He's not dead yet."

"Son, the odds aren't good… You know Blaine. He can't..." Burt said softly.

Kurt looked up at the group huddled in the room, swimming in their tears and sadness. Their _surrender_, his blue eyes flashing but shining in the dim let. Curling his hands into fists, he shouted, "HE'S NOT DEAD YET!" Covering his hand with his mouth to stifle a sob, he spun on his heel and tore out of the small cottage, slamming the door behind him with a crash.

"I'm sorry Mr. Anderson he's usually not this…" Burt apologized.

"Stop stop Burt. It's okay. This has to be tough on him."

"I should go get him, he's going to catch his death in that rain." Burt said, moving to follow his son.

Carole stopped him before explaining quietly, "Leave him for a bit. He'll be back soon. He needs some time."

Burt nodded, before taking a seat, wrapping his wife in his arms.

Outside, the rain poured in sheets as Kurt blindly ran, ignoring the freezing droplets against his skin, plastering his clothes and hair down. He didn't care what it would do to the fabric, whether he would catch a cold, or whether anyone was following him. All that was in his mind was the picture of a laughing boy, with dark curls falling lightly across his forehead, hazel eyes sparkling, rosy cheeks, a silky contagious laugh, and soft lips spreading into a smile as they bent down to kiss his own…

Tears slowly mingled his with the rain, and Kurt was surprised that the keening voice he heard was coming from his mouth. He sobbed painfully, gasping for breath and feeling the painful tug of loss savagely tearing at his heart as the knowledge of what he was going to watch on a giant screen tomorrow came crashing down on him, almost pushing him off his feet. _Oh, Blaine_, he thought with a sob, _I can't lose you_. _Not now, not like this. _

After a while, Kurt calmed, feeling the rain pour down harder, shivering slightly. He drew in a shaky breath, and found himself in the meadow. _Their_ meadow. The tall tree still stood strong, its branches whipping around in the strong wind, but still standing strong. And as the thunder rumbled and lightning cracked and the rain came down in sheets, Kurt opened his mouth and did the only thing he could do at a time like this. He began to sing.

_I let it fall, my heart,_

_And as it fell you rose to claim it_

_It was dark and I was over_

_Until you kissed my lips and you saved me_

_My hands, they were strong_

_But my knees were far too weak_

_To stand in your arms_

_Without falling to your feet_

_But there's a side to you_

_That I never knew, never knew._

_All the things you'd say_

_They were always true, always true,_

_And the games you play_

_You will always win, always win._

_And I set fire to the rain,_

_Watched it pour as I touched your face,_

_While it burned while I cried_

_'Cause I heard them reading out your name, _

_your name!_

Kurt's voice cracked softly as he choked out the next verse, thinking of the times he and Blaine had shared in this meadow, where everything was right. Where no one could harm them.

_When I lay with you_

_I could stay there_

_Close my eyes_

_Feel you here forever_

_You and me together_

_Nothing is better_

_'Cause there's a side to you_

_That I never knew, never knew,_

_All the things you'd say,_

_They were always true, always true,_

_And the games you play_

_You would always win, always win._

Straightening up, Kurt shouted up to the dark sky, which continued to empty out its tears and anger like the boy standing beneath it.

_And I set fire to the rain,_

_Watched it pour as I touched your face,_

_Well, it burned while I cried_

_'Cause I heard them reading out your name, _

_your name!_

_I set fire to the rain_

_As they threw you into the flames_

_And I felt something die_

_'Cause I knew that could be the last time, the last time!_

_Let it burn_

_Oh oh ohhhh_

_Let it burn_

_Oh oh ohhhh_

_Let it burn…_

Kurt trailed off at the end, letting out another sob and he sank down at the roots of the giant tree, curling up in on himself, imagining Blaine's strong warm arms around him, keeping him safe again.

A hand reached down and pulled him to his feet, looking up slowly, Kurt stared numbly into not hazel eyes, but warm brown ones.

"Let's go home bro." Finn said softly.

Kurt allowed himself to be led away by his stepbrother, climbing to his room and stripping off his soggy clothes, and sinking into bed, and falling to sleep, dreaming of blood and hazel eyes.

**Credits:**

**The song used is **_**Set Fire to Rain**_** by Adele, lyrics altered**

****Not done yet! Keep reading! Next chapter! - **


	11. Chapter 9 Part 3

Once the interviews ended, the two District 1 tributes made their way to the main room to eat dinner, sleep, and say their goodbyes. Tomorrow, the two would be whisked away separately by their stylists to the arena, where they would wait until the Games officially started.

Dinner was silent, and when it was time to say goodbye, Crippet stood awkwardly as Porkeyes swallowed each young person in a bear hug, tears dribbling down his fat cheeks. "Good luck you two…" He sniffled before leaving.

Crippet cleared her throat and looked at both. "Remember, I'll be backstage organizing your sponsors so while you're in the arena, always think of communicating to me if you need anything and I'll do my best to send it inside. The moment that cannon sounds , you get out of there Elizabeth, and look for water, and a place to hide. Anderso… Blaine, since you're one hell of a runner, you can go look for any weapons on the outskirts if it looks safe, but if it's a bloodbath you get your ass out. Understood? Then you go find some water and someplace safe. We don't know what is going to be in that arena, so it's important you find someplace to settle down and make a plan. Then you use your gut and go from there. Remember, never go head first into anything, and assess every aspect of a situation once you're in it. And, no mercy. None at all. You will not receive any so do not feel guilty for _anything_ you do in there. Just stay alive. Nothing is more important. Stay alive. Am I clear?"

Both tributes nodded.

"It has been a pleasure working with you. I wish you the best of luck. I wish I could help you, you poor creatures."

"You've helped a lot Ms. Crippet. Thank you." Blaine said slowly.

"Just doing my job." Crippet replied with a smile, before walking out. Blaine could have sworn he saw her wipe away a tear.

"Well then Blaine." Lizzie said, turning to look at the boy beside her.

"Well then Lizzie." He said before Lizzie flung herself in his arms. Blinking his eyes quietly, he choked out, "I'm so sorry."

"Just make sure you get back to District 1. And whatever happens in that arena, never come back for me." Lizzie whispered quietly with a sob.

York coughed lightly from behind them and Blaine released the petite girl. "Go get some sleep. You're going to need it. Blaine, I'll see you tomorrow. Lizzie, best of luck."

With a final nod to Lizzie, Blaine disappeared into his quarters, washing out the gel from his hair and slipping on pajamas before lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, afraid of what he would see if he fell asleep.

One, two , three hours passed before Blaine gave up, and rising, he slipped out of this room quietly and headed to the small living room, sitting down at the piano, stroking his hand over the keys. He could hear the pitter patter of raindrops against the window and thought if it was raining where Kurt was.

He started to play, prepared to sing what could be his last song. Opening his mouth, Blaine began to sing, bottled tears finally slipping over his cheeks.

_Skies are crying_

_I am watching_

_Catching teardrops in my hands_

_Only silence as it's ending, like I never had a chance_

_Do they have to, make me feel like there is nothing left of me?_

_They can take everything I have_

_They can break everything I am_

_Like I'm made of glass_

_Like I'm made of paper_

_Go on and try to tear me down_

_I will be rising from the ground_

_Like a skyscraper_

_Like a skyscraper_

He took in a breath, wiping his tears, straightening up in his seat, his voice taking on a determined edge. Anger at what they had done, what they were going to make him do filling him and he poured it out into the song, making it raw and stinging.

_As the smoke cleared_

_I awakened, and untangled you from me_

_Would it make them, feel better to watch me while I bleed?_

_All my windows, still are broken_

_But I'm standing on my feet_

_They can take everything I have_

_They can break everything I am_

_Like I'm made of glass_

_Like I'm made of paper_

_Go on and try to tear me down_

_I will be rising from the ground_

_Like a skyscraper_

_Like a skyscraper_

_Go run, run, run_

_I'm gonna stay right here_

_Watch them disappear, yeah_

_Go run, run, run_

_Yeah it's a long way down_

_But I am closer to the clouds up here_

_They can take everything I have_

_They can break everything I am_

_Like I'm made of glass_

_Like I'm made of paper, Ohhh woaah_

_Go on and try to tear me down_

_I will be rising from the ground_

_Like a skyscraper_

_Like a skyscraper…_

He finished the song, and sat at the piano, thinking of home until he fell asleep on the couch, imagining the soft pillows he held against his chest were Kurt, and he clung to them as he sank into the dark.

A warm hand shook him awake, and Blaine opened his eyes and gazed at York, who looked down at him sadly.

"Up you go bud." He said gently as Blaine rose and followed his mentor numbly to the helipad at the top of the Training Centre, where he entered the awaiting hovercraft. There, an attendant gave him a shot which inserted a tracking device underneath his skin.

The windows were blacked out, so Blaine sat in silence with his stylist, twisting his hand in his lap, heart beating ever faster. As the hovercraft touched down, Blaine saw his hands were shaking and gripped them tightly to still them.

The stylist and the tribute were lead down narrow hallways until they reached Blaine's launch room. He paused a little before he entered, reading the plaque outside the door :_Blaine Anderson, District 1_. He brushed his hand over it lightly as reality crashed into him. In the coming years, Capitol tourists would come visit this spot. He wondered what they would remember about him.

York softly pushed him inside and unwrapped the package that held the clothes for the games. It was the same for everyone, and York had never seen them, but he helped Blaine get dressed. Sturdy black pants, tight white sleeveless underarmor, a sturdy black t-shirt, soft but firm, and a black insulated jacket, and tall knee high boots with flexible soles. Everything fit his body like a well trimmed glove, accentuating the muscles in his arms and shoulders. The black flattered him, the tan of his skin and dark curls and rosy lips brought out. He was definetly going to give the crowd something to cheer about.

"Expect some wet cold nights," York said quietly, "Every article of clothing is made to reflect body heat, and is water proof. Wait, you don't want to forget these." He added, handing the boy some black gloves made of similar material.

Blaine slipped them on, stretching his fingers. They were comfortable, but Blaine looked at them confused. There was a flexible rubber material on the palm and fingers.

York studied them closely before intaking a sharp breath. Motioning to Blaine to lift his foot up, He studied the sole before straightening out, nodding slowly and saying in a strained voice, "The material on the gloves and boots is made to help grip onto rock."

Blaine looked up at his stylist quickely, eyes wide, "You don't think…"

"I don't know Blaine." York sighed, "Now move around. Everything comfortable?"

Blaine nodded and sat down. He was offered food, but didn't think his stomach could handle it so just accepted water, drinking it down slowly, sipping it as time went by. The glass sloshed in his grip as his hand shook.

An announcement rang out. It was time. Blaine stepped into a small cylinder, a tube that he would lift him up into the arena.

"Now I have a bowtie I'm sure you'll love waiting for your victory interview. I'll see you when this is over." York smiled.

Blaine nodded back whispering a quiet thank you as the door slid closed, slipping him into darkness. The tube began to move slowly upward, his heart racing.

"Courage Blaine." He said to himself as he heard the announcements from outside, getting louder and louder as the tube approached its destination.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_One. _

**Credits: **

**-song used is **_**Skyscraper**_** by Demi Lovato, lyrics mutilated **

**Author's Note: **

**Thank you so much for reading! Please review! **


	12. Chapter 10 Let the Games Begin

**Hey everyone! **

**Before you read this chapter, please watch this quick trailer I made for ****From Where You Are****. It's not too great but I wanted to have it before the games actually begin so you can see the characters. **

**You'll also see some sneak peeks of what is to come…. ;) It is unlisted so only if you have the link can you see it, so keep that in mind. **

.com/watch?v=MssSWLHpxzs&feature=g-upl&context=G2e6e0f3AUAAAAAAAAAA

**Also, with exams coming up and my life going crazy at the moment, I'm not going to have a lot of time to write. So I'm predicting the chapters are going to be shorter. If I ever do not update on Thursday, don't assume I'm abandoning the fic. Just go on my tumblr and I'll have a post up explaining why and when you can expect the next chapter. I know everyone wants to have a chapter a week but I'm not going to post something that is worthless. Sorry if that bothers anyone…. **

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12(.)tumblr(.)com **

**So without further ado, let the games begin!**

The darkness disappeared and suddenly Lizzie was swallowed in light. She blinked the sunlight from her eyes, her heart beating faster and faster.

Finally she opened her them, her green eyes widening. The tributes were arranged in a circle around the Cornuccopia (where all the weapons and food were located for those who would risk a fight lay), all like her, slow to react, hearts racing, minds struggling to grasp onto this reality, this new world they were savagely thrown into. She saw Blaine across from her, his hand raised to block out the sun. He somehow looked calm and composed, but she could see from the clench of his jaw, the slight shake of his hands, that he was absolutely terrified.

Breathing deeply Lizzie faintly recalled she only has sixty seconds on the starting plate, so she spun and took in her surroundings. The gold Cornuccopia glinted in the light, and she could see the items spilling out of it, their value growing the closer they were to its depths. Desire ebbed within her but she tore her eyes away, remembering Crippet's orders, and looked around and gasped.

There was nowhere to run. The tributes were caged in by massive cliff walls but she could just scent the smell of trees, so she realized that the rest of the arena was above her. Lizzie looked down at the gloves and knew that they all had one choice, to climb.

She was ready to make her sprint and get started when she noticed that the tributes were stepping off their plates and already the Career pack was forming, a team of tributes from the strongest districts who worked together to eliminate the others before turning on each other. District 1 never received an invitation. A few panicked tributes sprinted off their plates and began to climb, but the Careers pulled them down and mercilessly slaughtered whoever they could reach.

Amidst the cries of the dying, Lizzie stepped lightly off her starting plate and dashed for a small crevice, hiding behind a boulder, watching the scene before her, looking for her window of opportunity. She looked across and saw Blaine was doing something similar and was now crouched, hidden from the Careers, gaze fixed on the weapons in the Cornoccupia.

A scream broke into her thoughts, and she squeezed further into the crevice, squeezing her eyes tightly, breathing rapidly. She clenched her fists tightly, trembling in fear. She covered her mouth with a hand and choked out a sob. She couldn't do this. She just wanted to go home.

Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, Lizzie sang softly, trying to find some comfort anywhere it could be found. And as the air was stained with screams and the rocks were stained with red, she began to sing, voice shaking.

_If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song. _

She opened her eyes slowly, peeking out of her hiding place, muttering softly.

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I had just enough time_

And with that Elizabeth Browning, fondly known as Lizzie, lover of literature and music prepared to throw herself into the scene. She crouched, ready to run, and said to the cameras she knew were watching, "Let the games begin."

Across the small canyon, Blaine was on his toes, head low to avoid detection but eyes glued on the Cornuccopia. He tried (unsuccessfully) to ignore the screams of the other tributes around him, and suddenly, a path to the golden horn was opened. Flashing a look at the others, especially the Careers, and seeing them all occupied he took a deep breath and ran.

He weaved between the fighting pairs and rocks at a sprint, heading straight to the Cornuccopia, ignoring the useless supplies at his feet and heading for the treasures in its golden depths. Blaine was there in seconds, and lightning fast he grabbed whatever was closest. A large black backpack, a spear, and a sheath that held three knives. As he ran to get out, he grabbed a long blade that lay at the entrance. He tore the sheath off it, and flinging it back into the pile he sprinted out. A large tribute stood in his way, but he twisted and dodged around him, flying towards the cliff wall.

Blaine saw that Lizzie was already climbing, having found her opening, and leapt onto the rocks. Stuffing the knives into the pack, and strapping it and the spear securely to his back, and carefully holding the unsheathed knife in his teeth, just in case, he pulled himself up. The gloves and boots were crazy successful, helping him stay on the rocks.

There was plenty of dips and cracks in the cliff side, offering many grips and soon Blaine was halfway up, shoulders and arms aching. Wincing, he pulled himself up and kept a quick pace, making progress quickly. Already Blaine had passed Lizzie, who was trailing far beneath him, and other tributes who were fortunate enough to escape the grasp of the Careers. Breathing heavily, he shook his damp curls out of his eyes, and continued to climb.

A scream rang out below him, not so unlike the others, but it made Blaine freeze against the rocks. Another scream of pain sliced through the air and Blaine gripped tightly onto the wall, feeling his limbs go limp. He knew that voice. It was as if the world was moving in slow motion as Blaine turned his head and looked below him, and saw Colin Joules, the District 2 monster of a tribute pulling Lizzie off the rocks. She clung on hard, but her fingers slipped and she crashed down to the ground.

"LIZZIE!" Blaine yelled, ready to drop off the rocks. Ready to help her at whatever the cost, his heart working faster than his head. "Lizzie hold on!"

Lizzie pulled herself up onto her knees, scrambling away from the large tribute. She heard Blaine's shout, and screamed again, her voice forming a single word. "NOOO! NOOO!"

Blaine froze at her words shaking his head. "No…"

"BLAINE DON'T YOU DARE!" She let out another scream of pain as Colin shoved her roughly against the cliff face.

He was prepared to ignore her, to help her, when suddenly he heard Crippet shout at him in his thoughts, _"Anderson don't you dare! It's too late. You can't save her." _

"It's too late." He whispered softly and he tore his eyes away from the scene below and continued climbing.

Another scream cut through the clear mountain air, but then the voice went silent suddenly. Blaine looked just in time to see Lizzie's blood splatter over the rocks, her body crumpling motionless to the floor.

Blaine turned back to the cliff face with a pained gasp, gluing himself tightly against it as he struggled to find a breath. He choked out a sob, pressing his forehead against the rocks. _No, not Lizzie. It's not fair. Not literature loving Lizzie. Not hot cocoa Lizzie. Not her. _He thought of his new friend who was stolen away in an instant.

Taking an unsteady breath, he moved, and pulled himself up, his body moving like a machine as it carried him up the wall. But in his moment of shock another tribute had caught up, and suddenly he felt someone grab his ankle. Adrenaline coursed through him, and Blaine kicked wildly, his feet losing their purchase on the rocks. Arms screaming, he continued to struggle against his assailant, until he heard a crunch as his boot connected with the other tribute's face, and his attacker fell, landing on the sharp rocks below with a sickening crunch.

Numbly, he scrambled up the rest of the wall, until finally he reached the top, and hauled himself over the edge.

Knowing he couldn't stop as he saw other tribute doing the same, he moved the knife to his hand, and gripping onto it tightly he sprinted away into a forest, feeling the wind whistle in his face, leaves crunching underneath his light feet, branches whipping across his body. But he didn't stop. He didn't dare to stop.

As the sounds of the fighting melted into the distance until they disappeared altogether, Blaine slowed, panting heavily. He turned and looked around, finding himself in between tall trees, but the sky was blue above him, large grey mountains peeking above the green foliage. He breathed heavily, noticing the air was thin, and realizing that the arena was at a high altitude.

He stopped and caught his breath. Resisting the urge to look at what was in the pack, and instead thought back to Crippet's instructions.

"Find water. Find a place to hide. Make a plan." He told himself, and headed off in search of water.

After a few minutes he heard it. A small gurgle. Moving towards it, he found a small stream. Despite everything, he felt his face break into a smile and he rushed towards it, dropping on his knees next to water's edge. Gasping at the sensation of the freezing water against his skin, he cupped the clear cold water in his hands and drank his fill, shivering. He washed his face with the icy liquid, running his hands through his curls, pulling them off his face.

Feeling refreshed he walked away, eyes peeled in search of someplace to hide, following the small stream until it ran against a cliff face. Finally he stumbled across a small opening in the rock. He ducked inside, smiling as the tiny entrance opened into a small cavern. It was empty, but perfect.

Blaine shrugged off the pack, leaving it inside as he exited again, collecting branches and rocks until he fully disguised the entrance, hiding it from view. Satisfied with his work he moved a few leaves aside, and squeezed through the entrance, rearranging the branches behind him. Sunlight trickled through a small openings in the rocks above him, giving him enough light to work.

Blaine unzipped the pack, taking the sheath of knives out, and putting it with the spear in a corner of the cave, keeping the long knife at his side at all times. Carefully he reached and pulled out everything inside, pleased at his find: A few sealed packages of food (crackers, dried fruit, dried meat), two canteens of water, a needle, and rope. But most importantly, a small first aid kit full of white gauze bandages and a tiny bottle of anti bacterial spray.

He put everything back in the bag, and placed it at the end of the cavern next to weapons. The light quickly faded, and soon he was enveloped in darkness. Exhaustion caught up with the boy and Blaine slid off his jacket, and using it at a pillow he curled himself into a small ball, closing his hazel eyes and quickly falling asleep.

**Credits: **

**-Lizzie sang a small verse of **_**If I Die Young**_** by the Band Perry. (Song rec from cellogrrl123. Many thanks to her) **

**Author's Note: **

**Thank you all very much. I'm not very good at math but reviews = oxygen. Until next Thursday my dears. Hugs to all! **


	13. Chapter 11 Spinning in the Snow

**Hey everyone! **

**Some news at the end but first I present to you a quick chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12(.)tumblr(.)com**

"Kurt wake up."

Kurt shifted in his sleep, groaning.

"Come on boy. Kurt." The voice whispered again.

Kurt slowly flickered his eyes open, raising himself into a sitting position. He stretched his arms out, wincing as his body cracked, his muscles and back aching.

"About time sleepy head."

Twisting himself around, he finds himself staring into Mercedes's dark chocolate eyes.

"Mornin'"

Kurt blinks. Once. Twice. Again.

"Mercedes? Why are you… What?" He says groggily, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Kurt. You do know where you are right?" She says softly.

"My house…." Kurt lets his hands drop and looks around, eyes widening as he takes in the huddled crowds around him, all curled up on blankets on the hard pavement, cuddling with each other to fend off the cold morning chill, the giant screen suspended in front of him. "…Oh." He replies as realization hits him.

Suddenly he shoots up, "Blaine!" He cries loudly. Beside him Finn starts a bit before sinking his head back down, pulling a sleeping Rachel closer.

"Shhh! Quiet down you don't want to wake everyone up!" Mercedes scolds in a hushed voice.

Quieting down Kurt looks at his friend with panicked eyes. "Oh god I didn't mean to sleep. Has anything happened? Is he-"

"Calm down he's still asleep. I'm waking you up now because most of the tributes are starting to wake up and I knew you wouldn't want to miss anything. Now get up and wash your face and let's grab some breakfast."

Kurt nods slowly, stealing a quick glance at the screen as he rises to his feet. Depicted was some random tribute crouching setting a snare. The scene switched to another asleep in a tree. Reassured he wasn't going to miss anything, he follows Mercedes through the sleeping throng of people. Some are awake and nod at him in acknowledgement and some pity as he passes but the majority are asleep.

He used to remember that he was confused as to why people would sleep in the square, live there for the games. He used to think them shallow, since watching wouldn't help the people at the other end of the cameras. He used to think going home to sleep the night and then returning would be the smarter idea.

Now he understood. Kurt couldn't even bear the thought of leaving the square. The majority of District 1 was huddled together on the hard cobblestones, offering comfort and support to the family and friends of the affected. It was breathtaking.

As he carefully stepped over and around the people, Kurt scans the audience. Here and there he recognized a face: family friends, teachers, students from McKinley. As he passes a group of huddled sleeping boys in tattered navy blazers, he hears a crackle underneath his feet. Looking down and moving away, Kurt swallows down a lump in his throat as he reads the small sign he had stepped on:

_Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler. Kick Some Ass Blaine! _

Taking in a shaky breath, he tears his away from the sign and follows Mercedes to the edges of the square where water troughs are set up. He washes his face, blinking away the droplets that catch on his lashes, straightening his wrinkled shirt. For once Kurt Hummel didn't care about his appearance, or that he hadn't done his skin care routine. All Kurt Hummel was thinking about was returning to his spot underneath the giant screen.

"Take this." Mercedes whispered, handing him a soft t-shirt. "It's Finn's so it might be a little big but it's better than ruining your nice clothes."

"Thanks Mercedes." Kurt replies in relief, slipping off the stained button down and slipping into the old t-shirt, sighing in pleasure as the cool fabric slides down his warm skin.

"No problem, let's go get somethin' to eat."

The two friends make their way to a set of long tables at the outskirts of the square, where a make-shift serving area is set up. One of the only positives about the games is that the Capitol served food. It may not be delicious, but it was food nevertheless, and for a few days no one in District 1 would go hungry.

The two wait in silence for their turn. Kurt stands, twisting the plastic plate in his fingers, exhaling softly and watching his warm breath mingle with the chill air, small wisps of grey floating from his mouth. He is brought back to a memory. The snow was falling gently around them. A boy with dark curls was opening his face to the sky, sticking his tongue out as he tried to catch an icy flake. He was laughing, spinning in the white. Kurt remembered bending down to take him in his arms and hold his warmth close. He was kissing him deeply, was running his fingers through those dark silky curls. He remembered slipping on a patch of ice, and landing in the snow laughing. The boy with dark curls twisted from underneath him and Kurt remembered looking down into smiling hazel eyes, the only barrier between their faces the wispy fog that slipped out of their mouths. He remembered leaning down for another kiss…

Kurt blinked the memory away quickly and approached the table when it was his turn. The Peacekeepers slop the breakfast down on their plates, a small meal of stale bread and watery oatmeal.

Mercedes leads him back to their spot. Everyone else is still asleep, so the two arrange their stuff so they can sit without disturbing them. They eat in silence, wearily watching the screen, but nothing appears except images of sleeping or hunting tributes or recaps of gruesome deaths.

Behind them, Finn coughs and Kurt turns around, securely covering his step brother's and Rachel's sleeping forms with another blanket. He watches them sleep for a minute until Mercedes calls his name quietly, wrenching him out of the peaceful moment.

He spun around, frantic eyes latching onto the screen, but they softened. Projected onto it was Blaine. He was curled up into himself, fast asleep. If it wasn't for the knife still clutched in his hand, it would have seemed like the most tranquil thing Kurt had ever seen. His eyes moved from behind his eyelids. Kurt wondered what he was dreaming about. He hoped it was a good dream. Blaine's curls flopped lazily over his face, and Kurt felt his heart tug at the sudden urge to brush them away.

"He looks like such a child." Mercedes whispered.

Kurt gave a quiet laugh, eyes still glued on his boyfriend's sleeping face, "He's always a child. I swear it's like he's five sometimes." The smile dropped from his lips, and Kurt knotted his hands in his lap, "Mercedes… I don't think… I won't be able to… not without him…"

Dark warm hands covered his shaking ones, clasping them tightly. "I don't think God will take him away from you. Everything happens for a reason. Have faith..."

"You know I have none."

"You don't have to have faith in God. Have faith in Blaine."

"I'm trying." Kurt squeezed Mercedes hand in reply, but then whimpered as the image disappeared, and instead was replaced with the District 2 tribute savagely slaughtering his companion.

After a few minutes of bloody scenes as the sun rose over the arena, Blaine's face finally reappeared on the screen. Strands of sunlight softly stroked his face, and Kurt watched intently as his hazel eyes slowly fluttered open.

**Author's Note:**

**It is with much regret and a heavy heart that I inform you that there will be ****NO FROM WHERE YOU ARE NEXT WEEK. ****My dearest apologies but I have exams -.-**

**Also, for those tumblr users who wish to have updates but don't want to follow me, I'm going to be using the tag "from where you are crossover". Even if you do me the honor of following me track the tag so the news isn't lost on your dash. Basically I just post my progress and stuff. **

**For those of you without a tumblr you can go to: **

_**http:/aslytherinindistrict12(.)tumblr(.)com/tagged/from-where-you-are-crossover**_

**There you can check for updates as well as see some treats I post, because right before I post the chapters I start posting gifs or pictures that pertain to the story. So after you read the chapter (or if you're lucky before) you can see a bit of what I imagine as I write, since I imagine in moments. **

**Just thought that would make the waiting a little easier. And keep you albeit sustained so you don't all run away and leave me :)**

**Okay, so that's about it. Hopefully see you back in two weeks. Remember reviews really do help me write faster and motivate me. **

**Thank you all so very much for reading. Hugs to all! **


	14. Chapter 12 Racing Through the Trees

**Hey everyone! **

**Yes everyone I'm a liar. I told you that you wouldn't be having a chapter this Thursday and yet here it is. Sorry about that but I just found some extra time and really needed to write. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me :p. Remember if you're ever unsure about when a chapter is going to post please feel free to ask or check my tumblr or something. **

**So without further ado, I present to you Chapter 12! **

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12(.)tumblr(.)com**

Blaine awoke, blinking sunlight out of his eyes. He sat up slowly, looking down at the knife in his hands in surprise for a second before remembering where he was. Standing up shakily, he stretched, gasping as his sore muscles unlocked. Rolling his shoulders back and jiggling his arms and legs, he cautiously stepped out of the cave. Seeing and hearing no one, he stumbled down to the river, washing his face and splashing water onto his arms and neck. The icy liquid woke him up in seconds and he reentered the cave, readjusting the branches that hid its mouth from the world.

Blaine straightened his clothing, brushing the dust from the cave's floor off of them before slipping back into the black gloves and his black jacket, buttoning it securely. Knowing he had to look put together for the audiences and the sponsors that were hopefully considering endorsing him (sponsors can give the mentor money to send the tribute an item the tribute really needs or food or water etc. The more fans, the more sponsors, the better your odds of winning) so Blaine combed his hair back with his fingers, happy that it responded due to York's care and excellent hair cut.

Feeling significantly refreshed Blaine leaned against the wall, looking at the ceiling and watching the small beams of sunlight dribble through the small holes. So peaceful. So quiet.

He closes his eyes gently, breathing in the moist air, trying to recreate Kurt's face from his dream: The bright blue of his slanted eyes, the smooth porcelain of his skin, the slope of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, the pale pink of his lips, creases on his cheek when they turned up in a smile. But it was only a picture, only a memory interrupted by remembered screams of pain and panic.

Blaine exhaled and reopened his eyes, sorting his thoughts. He had water, someplace to hide, some food. Now all he needed was a plan.

Thinking fast, Blaine reopened the black pack, ripping out the large tag on the side. It was roughly the side of a piece of paper. It was crumpled and worn and slightly wet but he carefully removed it and smoothed it out.

With the scorched end of a branch from the small fire he made last night, Blaine carefully listed out the names of the tributes, and set the paper aside, planning to cross out the names of the dead when the information was projected around the arena in the evening. Safely tucking it under a rock so it wouldn't blow away, Blaine rose again, emptying the black pack and then refilling it with a canteen of water, some of the crackers and the sheath of knives. Not much but he wanted to travel light.

Reattaching the spear to its straps for quick use, he tucked the long blade he always has on his side into the inside of his jacket, Blaine pulls on the pack, ready to emerge into the arena to look for more food or something to keep warm.

He brushes away the branches and steps outside the safety of the cave. His heart instantly starts to beat faster and with shaking hands he makes sure the cave is well hidden before walking away, heading down the stream.

Morning passes and goes, the sun rises high into the skies and sinks slightly until it is late afternoon. The entire day was an absolute success. The pack on Blaine's back is now much heavier, carrying great amounts of berries and nuts and herbs that he recognized along the way. The bag also has the meat of two birds and a rabbit he managed to hunt down (after a significant number of tries). He had skinned them and wrapped the meat in some fabric he tore away from the inside of the bag. It was easy. Much too easy.

Mood light and heart hopeful, Blaine kneels down to wash his hands in the icy cold water, singing quietly to himself, "_You make me feel like I'm living, a, teenage dream, the way you turn me on. I can't sleep let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back…_" He shook his hands watching with a smile playing on his lips as the drops flew off of the, and back into the stream and then out of the silence, the snap of a branch.

Blaine leapt up and spun around, eyes looking into the thick foliage behind him, looking for the source of the noise within the trees. But only silence…

There it was again, but from somewhere else.

Blaine clapped his hand over his mouth so that whoever it was couldn't hear him breathing heavily. Hazel eyes scanned the trees again. And again.

Another snap.

A cough.

Watching the base of the trees Blaine suddenly saw what he was looking for and dreading: a black booted foot peeking out from behind a trunk. Not waiting one more second Blaine spun on his heel and ran, jumping across the stream and racing into the trees on the other side.

"Come on! He's getting away! Run!" A voice shouted and suddenly Blaine heard multiple splashes and the thuds of many footsteps as the Career pack charged after him.

Blaine sprinted, weaving in and out of the trees, glad that the pack was still secure against him. A root blocked his path and he tripped over it, feeling the breath leave his body with a whoosh as he landed on the forest floor. An arrow whizzed past his ear, nearly missing him and Blaine felt the adrenaline kick in again. Rising with a wince, he started to run again.

"Faster! We're losing him!"

"Holy shit that hobbit is quick."

"Damn fast fairy."

"Come back here princess! We won't hurt you!"

Voices laughed behind him but Blaine focused on his running, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest.

He continued to run through the trees for what seemed like forever, weaving in and out and changing direction to lose his pursuers. After some time, Blaine heard the shouts of the Careers fade into the distance but he kept running.

Finally he slowed, stumbling unsteadily to a halt. He was still for a minute, straining to hear any hint that his hunters were still chasing. But all that came back to his ears were the sound of crickets and the breeze that whistled through the trees.

Blaine let out a small laugh. He survived. He got away. Blinking the sweat away from his eyes and running his fingers through his damp curls he regained his breath, head feeling light. After he caught some of it back, he looked around.

He was in a small clearing at the base of one of the mountains, large rocks littered around him. He scanned the clearing, the rocks, and the trees for any sign of danger. Hazel eyes carefully flicked around, all senses on full alert.

Suddenly his eyes focused on something and Blaine took a hesitant step forward. Ahead was the carcass of a deer. After assuring himself that there was no danger Blaine sprinted forward, unable to contain his excitement. He knelt beside the carcass, overjoyed that it was still fresh. The possibilities spun in his head: the meat that would last for days if not weeks, the fur used as a blanket or bandages. Just as Blaine was about to pull out the long blade from his jacket to begin carving the carcass like the instructors has taught him in the training centre, he had a lingering thought that brought him down to reality: _What killed it?_

Snuffling broke through the chill air and a low growl emanated from behind him.

Oh.

Blaine turns around slowly, holding his breath and his eyes widening in shock. A large, abnormally large, grizzly bear, blood still fresh on its snout was lumbering back into the clearing. Its large saber-like claws clicked against the rocks and its yellow teeth were as long as a man's index finger. It looked large, formidable… and hungry.

And Blaine was standing between it and its kill.

Exhaling softly, Blaine stepped away from the dead deer, backing away slowly.

But it was too late.

In a space of seconds the animal was charging. Blaine turned to run but the monstrous animal covered the space between them with a couple long strides and suddenly Blaine was thrown to the rocky ground, shouting in pain as sharp claws ripped through his shoulder and back.

**Review? Please tell me what you think! **


	15. Chapter 13 Just Breathing

**Hey everyone! I know it's kind of late but here's your chapter! I apologize in advance for the quality of the words and grammer. I didn't have time to edit but I hope it isn't too horrible. I put this together in like 2 hours and now its 12:30am and I'm exhausted so I'm not going to edit. Sorry! **

**Again, thank you thank you thank you for reading! **

**WARNING: Violence and blood in this chapter! If it bothers you, just try and skim over it but it is a battle to the death so you were sorta already warned…. **

**Enjoy! **

….In a space of seconds the animal was charging. Blaine turned to run but the monstrous animal covered the space between them with a couple long strides and suddenly Blaine was thrown to the rocky ground, shouting in pain as sharp claws ripped through his shoulder and back.

Blaine cried out, the pained gasp savagely torn from him. The bear lifted its paw but before it could bring it back down, Blaine rolled away, moving to put as much distance between him and the beast as possible. Ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder Blaine leapt onto the balls of his feet: a mind racing with all the possibilities, a mind racing to find a way out.

Knowing that there was no possible way he could outrun the bear, considering how tired he already was from before, Blaine turned to face the grizzly, hand reaching into his jacket for the long blade, before he froze, an idea quickly forming in his dizzy but adrenaline sharpened mind:

Brains before brawn.

The bear was roaring now, rising on its two hind legs, a monstrous sight as it blocked the sun that was slowly getting ready to sink behind the trees. It prepared to charge, and Blaine waited till it dropped back down onto its claws and took its first bounding stride before sprinting back, leaping onto the outcropping of rock behind him.

The gloves and boots helped him find purchase on the grey face, and Blaine scrambled to the top of the grey mass, leaning against a large boulder. Beneath him, the bear was roaring, charging at the rock face. Blaine felt the ground beneath him shake but he planted his feet firmly behind the large rock, and ignoring the piercing pain in his shoulder and back he pushed. _Hard_. Using his years' experience of lifting and pushing giant rolls of fabric at the mill, he threw his entire body, soul and strength into moving the large boulder until it tumbled down onto the savage bear below.

The roar was silenced. Wearily, Blaine moved to the edge of the small precipice, looking down below him. The boulder has fallen directly onto the bear, and it now lay sprawled beneath it. Seeing it paralyzed Blaine quickly drew out the long blade from his jacket and leapt down, and within a manner of seconds he had split the bear's throat.

Seeing the beast dead before him, Blaine finally exhaled and dazed he stumbled back, the knife dropping from his shaking fingers. His knees gave out and he kneeled before it, trying to breathe. The adrenaline slowly seeped away, leaving his body cold and trembling, the pain from the ragged gash that split his skin from his collarbone, over his shoulder and down to right beneath his shoulder blades finally igniting, sending spasms of liquid fire up and down his body.

But he knew he had no time to treat his injuries. The bear's roars and his shouts could have been heard by anyone and he knew he had to leave. Soon. Blaine tightened his jacket, wincing as he pulled it tightly against his raw skin so it could staunch the bleeding as much as possible.

He grabbed the knife and crawled over to the dead bear, and his body working like a machine once again, survival instincts and the training from the instructors kicking in, he used the long blade to skin and cut up the bear, the sharp metal sawing through the muscles and sinew until he had separated large slabs of meat and the fur. Standing shakily he picked up his pack from where it had fallen on the ground and wrapped up the bear meat with his earlier prey. Holding the animal's hide close to his chest, pleased at the warmth emanating from it, his hazy mind dimly aware that it could save his life when the nights were cold, he strapped the pack to his unhurt shoulder and stumbled away.

Twilight fell across the arena quickly, darkness leaking navy streaks of ink across the sky. There was no in-between. No reds or pinks or oranges. Just blue to black. As the sun set, the light sank behind the rows and rows of trees, the shadows falling across the arena and over Blaine in dark lines, almost like the bars of a prison.

The breath swirled out of Blaine's mouth in short pants and the occasional whimper of pain. His good arm was gripping his bleeding shoulder and every step sent to jolt of pain stabbing through him. He felt like he was stumbling in the woods for years. _Breath Blaine,_ he thought to himself. _In, Out._

_In_

_Out_

Finally Blaine managed to find his cave again. Blindly pulling aside the branches and leaves he stumbled inside, preparing everything. He emptied the backpack, storing the food in a nook between the rocks, high enough so that no insects could reach it. Then numbly he ripped open the first aid kit, taking out the bandages, the antibacterial spray and the needle. After lighting a small fire, he grabbed the bear fur to wrap himself in and stumbled outside. Looking around carefully to see if there were any other tributes nearby and assured that he was alone, he walked shakily towards the stream.

Night had turned the arena an inky black, so Blaine wasn't self conscious as he stripped off his clothes with shaky fingers. He managed to slip off his pants, underwear, and jacket but blanched as his fingers brushed against his blood crusted t-shirt, the blood drying the fabric to his wound so he decided to leave it for now. Laying his other clothes on the rocks as he splashed into the water, gasping at the icy shock of it against his skin. He waded in until he was submerged till slightly above his hips, and then he ducked into the liquid, sinking into the black depths. When he rose, he shook the water from his eyes and hair, and waited until the cold temperature numbed his limbs.

Once he could scarcely feel his fingers, Blaine moved over to the rock where he had set out the medical supplies. Still in the water, he began to scrub the blood away from his shirt and arms. The shirt, now soaking wet, still refused to slide off. Blaine took in a shaky breath and reached to pull it off. The scab had dried around the fabric and as he tried to pull it off the wound began to reopen and Blaine couldn't muffle his small cry. His body shook violently and he let out a quiet sob as his blood spilt over the deep cut and down his cold skin until it dripped into the dark water beneath him. In the pain, he dimly remembered that Kurt and his family could be watching, and not wanting them to suffer, he grabbed his jacket and stuffed the sleeve into his mouth, biting down hard. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, in one swift motion Blaine tore the shirt from his skin, his scream muffled by the jacket. Tears streaked down his face and mingled with the cold water dripping down from his curls. The world shifted and swayed but the icy water kept him conscious, and with trembling fingers, he reached for the needle. Ripping a seam and pulling out some thread from his ruined shirt, Blaine quickly threaded the needle, years of experience of living in a district dedicated to making clothes aiding him as he expertly tied the knot.

Setting the prepped needle on the rock next to the bandages, Blaine ducked into the water again, sobbing silently into the jacket as he roughly used his free arm to scrub any rock, dirt, or dried blood still in the jagged cut. After a few minutes, the wound, still stinging and streaming blood, felt well, tingling painfully but cleanly. Satisfied, Blaine rose, gripping the anti-bacterial spray tightly in his fist and spraying it all over the wound, wincing at the sting. Placing the bottle back onto the rock gently, the young boy grabbed the threaded needle and set to work sewing together his torn skin. He was still biting down hard onto the jacket sleeve, and almost blacked out a couple of times, but finally he had small clean stitches running up his collarbone to slightly above his shoulder. Not able to go any further but relieved that the cut wasn't too deep in that area, Blaine tied off the knot and examined his efforts, pleased at his work. Kurt would be proud.

Rinsing the bloody needle off and returning it to the first aid kit, Blaine wrapped up his wound with the bandages, remembering the teachings of the training instructors. After securing the white gauze to his skin with the small metal clip included, Blaine stumbled out of the water, wrapping the bear skin around himself as he slipped back into the cave.

The earth seemed to move and shake, and Blaine dizzily collapsed to the floor beside the fire. Forgetting his clothes and materials outside, he curled up tightly in the fur, within it his bare body shivering from the cold and pain. The fire crackled softly as his eyes fluttered closed, letting the darkness take him and sinking into dreams of roaring bears, pounding feet, and blue eyes.

**Please please review! **


	16. Chapter 14 Far Away From Where You Are

**Hey everyone! **

**Thank you all so very much for your patience. You all have been very very supportive (I can't believe you guys actually want to read this) and I hope this chapter is worth it. We'll fall back into our pattern this Thursday. **

**I'm not going to keep you guys waiting longer, so here is the chapter, but I have an important announcement to make at the end. Hope you enjoy the chapter! **

Blaine filtered between consciousness and unconsciousness. Bright lights and colors swirled in his eyes, liquid flares of fire bursting in at random moments, violently bringing him back to the surface before he sunk down again. Somewhere in this haze, a silver flash fluttered before him.

He struggles to open his eyes, licking his dry lips, mouth feeling like sandpaper. A small silver parachute floats to the ground before the cave, catching in the branches that conceal it. With a groan, Blaine forces himself up on his knees and crawls towards it, reaching up weakly with his uninjured arm and pulling it loose.

Attached to it is a small white jar and a small note. Blaine blinks repeatedly, trying to get his eyes to focus and stay open as he reads Crippet's slanted cursive:

"This is for your shoulder. Use it to get well. You have sponsors Blaine, keep them. It's time to start playing."

Unscrewing the lid with trembling fingers, Blaine unwraps his shoulder, wincing at the sight of the ravaged skin, looking horrible in the dimming light. He twists aside and retches, clutching his sides as he heaves, but nothing coming up from his empty stomach. Swallowing back the bile that rises in his throat, Blaine dips his fingers into the cool ointment, and gently massages it over the wound. He is met with instant relief, the white cream soothing the wound, dulling the pain, and hiding it from sight. He reaches over his shoulder, rubbing it over the unstitched portion of the cut near his back, wincing at the blood that wets his hands. Wiping them against his pants, Blaine takes a large gulp of water from one of the canteens and rewraps his wound tightly before getting dressed.

The next few hours Blaine washes up and eats some food, slowly regaining his strength. He dries out the meat and packages it away. He sharpens his knives. He cleans the cave and the backpack. He thinks of Kurt.

Suddenly night has fallen and there are canons outside and Blaine hurries out, holding the slip of paper with the tributes' names on them that he prepared earlier. Using some berries, he watches the screens that are projected over the arena, and checks off the names of the dead.

The brutal opening and vicious career pack had decimated the tribute pool. It may be an exciting games, but it isn't going to last very long. Fourteen tributes are dead. Only ten remain.

Blaine rereads the note Crippet sent to him, eyes catching on one line over and over.

"It's time to start playing."

Blaine nods slowly to himself. With his wound, he physically couldn't afford to wait until the other tributes killed each other off. He would have to hunt. And he would start tonight.

Blaine buttons up his jacket, sliding his knives into it and strapping the spear to the pack after packing some food and water into it. Rising and taking a deep breath, he slips out into the night.

Blaine climbs up some rocks until he climbs high enough to see the arena spread out before him. With careful eyes he scans the quiet trees, looking for some sign of motion.

There it is.

A small spark, a small fire being lit not far below him.

And another not far away.

And another.

As the other tribute were settling down to sleep, tired after a long day have hunting, slaughtering, or hiding, Blaine memorizes their locations, and descends, his silhouette against the moon unnoticed by everyone except the cameras that watch his every step.

He quietly slips through the forest, light feet barely making a sound. An owl hoots in the distance as the wind whispers through the leaves. Almost telling him to turn around. Trying to pull him back. To stop him from doing what he will never forget and becoming just another piece in the games.

Too late though.

Blaine made a promise. And one he intends to keep. He WILL get home to Kurt. To his family and friends. No matter the cost.

A few slow minutes pass and suddenly firelight flickers in-between the dark trunks. Blaine holds his breath, and slides out his long blade, silently approaching his first victim.

A girl lies facing the fire, her back to Blaine, long brown hair dirty and tangled but reflecting the licking tongues of flame. Blaine's heart pangs painfully as he is reminded of Rachel but he only grips the knife tighter. He kneels behind the sleeping girl, scared that she might hear the wild beating of his heart and wake up. Blaine bites his lip and looks at the stars, closing his eyes for a second before reaching down and pulling the girl's head up and swiftly sliding his blade across her throat.

Blaine keeps his head up, staring at the inky sky above and blinking away the tears that treacherously prick at his eyes as he hears the gargled cry and liquid exhale. And then silence. Just silence and that owl hooting in the distance. He moves away but makes the mistake of glancing down and is frozen. The girl is limp on the floor, the breath stolen from her body, a scarlet ribbon spilling down her neck. But what holds him in place is her eyes. They are open and stare up at him sightlessly, a warm brown frozen in a moment of shock and fear. They stare at Blaine. They stare at her killer.

Blaine chokes and turns to run, blindly flying through the trees as the canon sounds behind him, signaling a death. Once the scene has disappeared Blaine leans heavily against a tree, sliding down against the trunk and collapsing. He looks at his hands, still stained with blood. A lonely tear slides down his cheek. He exhales, forcing himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

He slowly rises and wipes his hands, clenching them into fists. Blaine knows he has to keep going. He cannot stop.

Blaine wipes the blade against the forest floor and looks around to get his surroundings. He isn't far off, and he moves to his next target.

The night passes and dawn leaks across the sky, staining the sky red. Blaine looks down at his shaky hands as he stumbles back to his cave. He had killed four. The girl, a boy he had snuck upon as he ate, and two others that were camped together. He killed one with his knife, and thrown the spear at the other, his aim impeccable.

Only six tributes left.

Blaine dives back into his cave, feeling numb, cold, detached and emotionless. The morning sunlight is seeping through the cracks above but exhaustion allows him to sink into a dreamless sleep.

He sleeps the day away, his body taking in its required rest and by the time he wakes, eats, cleans, and redresses his wounds, twilight has fallen over the arena. He steps outside, stretching and breathing in the crisp mountain air, loving the silence.

Canons sound in the distance and the names of the dead are projected once more across the arena. Another deadly day and night. Only four tributes left including himself. The games were almost over.

Blaine barely has time to let this realization sink in until suddenly, a flash of silver across the moon, and a parachute is sinking down towards him, carrying a large white package. Blaine looks curiously as it nears him, and plucks it out of the air as soon as it is in reach. A note is taped to the top, reading only two words in his mentor's slanted handwriting:

"Well done."

Blaine pulls away the white cloth and stares stunned at the contents: a guitar. A simple wooden guitar. Confused he pulls it out of the package, until a look of understanding spills across his face.

Of course.

This is entertainment, and he is still winning over the audience. He almost laughs at the stupidity of the entire thing. He had just killed four people and yet the Capitol wants him to sing for them. Instead of laughing at the irony, he opts instead for his famous small smile and famous wink, knowing that the cameras were bound to be watching.

The stars twinkle overhead as he climbs the rocks above his cave, unarmed except for the long blade that is always hidden within his jacket and the guitar. He climbs high enough until he can see the entire arena, the air thinning ever so slightly. He sits down at the edge, dangling his feet off the rock, shivering slightly as a chilled breeze whips through his dark curls.

Wincing slightly as he adjusts the guitar on his lap, but ignoring the pain in his shoulder Blaine just sits plucking the strings, thinking of what to sing. Suddenly the chords form into something tangible, and softly music swirls through the breeze over the rocks and the trees and through the clearing behind him. The wind whispers in his ear and Blaine takes in a deep breath and starts to sing softly:

_1,2,3,4_

He's thinking of a porcelain boy with blue eyes back at home, watching the screen intently, his heart beating quickly as he watches his boyfriend miles away strumming a guitar and launching into a quiet song:

_So far away from where you are_

_These miles have torn us worlds apart_

_And I miss you, yeah I miss you_

_So far away from where you are_

_I'm standing underneath the stars_

_And I wish I was with you_

He's thinking of a sunny meadow, an infectious laugh, a smiling song as he forgets the world and death and suffering and arena around him, singing to this one person miles away, hoping he remembers the same things:

_I miss the years that were erased_

_I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face_

_I miss all the little things_

_I never thought that they'd mean everything to me_

_Yeah I miss you_

_And I wish I was with you_

_I feel the beating of your heart_

_I see the shadows of your face_

_Just know that wherever you are_

_Yeah I miss you_

_And I wish I was with you_

He's thinking of a chocolate cookie, a smooth guitar, a rusted bike, a small stone cottage as his voice cracks softly. He clears it and continues to sing, liquid voice laden with sadness, loss, and memory:

_I miss the years that were erased_

_I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face_

_I miss all the little things_

_I never thought that they'd mean everything to me_

_Yeah I miss you_

_And I wish I was with you_

_So far away from where you are_

_These miles have torn us worlds apart_

_And I miss you, yeah I miss you_

_And I wish I was with you _

He's thinking of the life he left behind as he finishes the song.

But Blaine is unaware that miles away from where he was, Kurt who was standing in applause, clapping as tears streak down his cheeks, is suddenly screaming for his attention, his face a mask of shock and horror as Kurt watches a large dark figure creep behind his boyfriend, a long bade reflecting the moonlight.

Blaine takes a deep breath, looking across the dark arena until a low voice whispered into his ear shatters the silence.

"Hello there princess. Now wasn't that beautiful?" The voice smiles as Blaine feels a cool blade press against his throat.

**...**

**Oh don't look at your screen like that. At least you only have to wait till Thursday and not an entire week. **

**Now if I could have a little more of your patience I want to tell you guys about something important: **

**Okay, so I've decided to start a competition of sorts. Since this fanfiction is drawing to its close (I know :'( ) I really wanted to get you guys involved and have something to show for our adventures together. So I'm having a little competition. **

**Here are the rules: you make a video or graphic or drawing or whatever for this fanfic. You can do how many you want, but remember, quality over quantity. You can post it on tumblr and tag it "from where you are crossover" or "aslytherinindistrict12" or if you don't have a tumblr say something in the reviews and I'll give you the info to where to send it. Or you could just PM me. **

**But what is in it for you? Well, all this work will be posted on my tumblr (credited to you of course) and I will publicly thank you here. But the winners (yes if I see more than one that I love I will select more than one winner) will get a special treat, if that is what you want to call it. The creators of the best videos (and maybe graphics) will not only get to read the alternate ending I have written for the end of the story before everyone else, but they will also get the final chapter a week before it is posted. And of course I'll announce them here. **

**Now we're a small community and I'm not sure how many will be interested so everyone has a real chance of winning. I'm serious. **

**This is just a way I thought I could get you guys involved, and have a little fun. I also would really like to see your guys' interpretation of this story. I hope you'll participate! **

**Please please review! Much gratitude and many hugs! **

**Credits:**

**-The song used is **_**From Where You Are**_** by Lifehouse (aren't you all shocked that I used it?). It truly is a beautiful song and if you haven't listened to it, I encourage you to do so. I only changed one repeating line because I don't think Blaine wishes Kurt was in the arena with him. **


	17. Chapter 15 Little Songbird

**Hey everyone! Sorry this is a little late but the site wouldn't let me log in. But here is your chapter! **

**We're closing in on the end of this fanfic, so be prepared. Only a couple chapters left I think. I just want to say a quick thank you to my sister for betaing this chapter, and also to all of you out there who are reading this. I'm baffled as to how you guys are still interested, and thank you so very much for all your support. I couldn't even dream of getting this far without you guys. Thank you! **

**A quick note before we continue regarding the competition: you guys have 2 weeks to send in your submissions. Please try and send something in! **

**WARNING: A lot of violence. (it's the Hunger Games after all)**

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12 **

**Here we go….. **

"You know I really was hoping that I'd be the one to finish you off princess. Almost got you a few days ago but damn you fairies can fly." The gravelly voice continued into his victim's ear and Blaine felt warm liquid spill slowly across his neck and onto the guitar below as the knife was pressed harder into his throat.

"You know who I am, don't you? Why don't you say anything? The world is watching."

Blaine bit his lip, not breathing a sound. He refused to give Colin Joules of District 2 as well as the nation of Panem the satisfaction of hearing his voice shake.

This was still entertainment.

Mind racing as fast of his heart, Blaine sat frozen, trying to find a way out.

"No? Come on little songbird, let's give the crowd something to cheer about." His attacker growled and Blaine gasped at the sharp sting of the knife digging into his soft skin.

Moving fast as the wind that whipped above the two tributes and the rain that began to pour above them (the Gamemakers trying to enhance the scene), Blaine twisted and elbowed Colin in his groin, rolling away and dodging the knife that flew dangerously close. He jumped to his feet and looked at his attacker, rolling on the balls of his feet and drawing the long blade from his jacket as he caught his breath.

Colin was doubled over with a wheeze before rising to his full height, glaring at the shorter boy before him and brandishing his knife, the tip still slightly tinged with Blaine's blood. "You're going to regret that." He snarled as he charged.

Blaine quickly sidestepped and as Colin turned to face him, swinging the blade down as Blaine raised his own, stopping its path with a loud clang, the sound of the metal smashing against each other ringing out through the stormy air. The boys twisted around and continued this deadly dance, neither inflicting any serious damage on the other. Although Colin had more experience with weapons and was stronger, Blaine was fast, and like the instructor had taught him, he used it to his advantage.

Parrying a particularly hard swing, Blaine's arm shook under the immense pressure and he twisted away and kicked Colin. As the District 2 tribute stumbled back Blaine took his chance and lunged in with the blade. Colin howled in pain as Blaine's knife tore through his arm but he recovered fast and suddenly Blaine felt himself fly through the air as Colin threw him across the clearing. Blaine landed with a crash on his wounded shoulder, and he bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out as his head snapped back against the rocks, his knife flying out of his hand.

Gasping for air, Blaine rolled onto his back, the air knocked out of him. Blinking his eyes to refocus them, he could vaguely make out the figure of Colin through the pouring rain as the monstrous tribute moved to tower above him. Blaine tried to scramble back on his hands but Colin kicked him savagely in the ribs and he felt something crack. Blood dripped down Colin's arm and he stared down at Blaine, fury setting his eyes on fire. The shorter boy felt his heart flutter in fear as he saw Colin smirk down at him, now holding a giant boulder above him.

"Let's see you play guitar now princess." Colin spat as he rose up and smashed the boulder onto Blaine's hand.

Blaine couldn't suppress the scream of agony that was ripped out of him as he felt the boulder shatter the bones in his fingers.

"Oh and look, our little songbird remembered how to sing."

The pain violently rose up from his hand and through his arm and shoulder and with black spots dancing before his eyes. With pain rising violently in every molecule of his being Blaine kicked Colin's feet from him and rolled away, jumping to his feet, swaying slightly. Colin charged at Blaine like a bull, wielding his knife, looking to finish the shorter boy off. Now unarmed, Blaine raised his hands, and as he dodged Colin's swing he brought up his good fist and smashed it into the larger tribute's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch. While Colin was still reeling Blaine brought his hand back and punched Colin in the jaw. The jarring force of his own blow sent tremors up his tired arms and reopened the cut on his shoulder.

Stumbling back a few steps, Blaine clutched his broken hand and shook his head to dislodge the soaking dark curls that plastered his forehead, blinking away the raindrops and teardrops. Without warning Colin was upon him again and a large fist crashed against his cheek with the force of a train. Blaine fell to the ground but Colin lifted him up from his neck, crushing his windpipe, driving him back into a tree. He felt the splinters from the bark driving into his skin and cried out in pain as Colin hit him again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, Blaine recovered enough strength to escape from Colin's iron grip and hit the other boy, but he was so weak. It hurt to stand. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think, hell it hurt everywhere. He knew he couldn't last. He panicked.

But there was nowhere to go.

The world seemed too slow. Breaths became short, quick, and shallow. Heart racing, relishing every beat. He was scared. He realized that he could die. He was going to die. He was never going to see Kurt again. He couldn't keep his promise. Blaine looked around, trying to find something, anything, to help him. But there was nothing. Pain, pain everywhere. He felt like he was going to explode. Colors danced before his eyes. He doubled over, coughing up blood, trying to breathe. As he straightened up he saw Colin approaching almost theatrically, the long blade flashing in the lightning.

_Kurt needs me to come home_, Blaine thought and bent his head back, the cold droplets smashing against his heated skin. He had to get home.

Standing tall, chin high he looked at Colin straight in the eye. Colin just charged, limping slightly, blood pouring out of the tear in his shoulder. Blaine moved quickly, dodging the blade as it whizzed close. Seeing an opening, Blaine struck out and Colin grunted as a fist drove into his eye.

But then Colin grabbed Blaine's arms, holding them up, using his height as an advantage. For a split second, Blaine's torso was exposed. Unprotected. And Colin took his chance.

Blaine gasped, crying out in pain, as the knife stabbed into his chest, right below his heart, driving into his body with enough force to break a rib on its way in. Colin stumbled back, letting out a laugh, leaving the blade embedded in Blaine's body.

Blaine looked down in shock at the intrusion. He tried to breathe, fill his lungs with oxygen, but no air seemed to make its way. His mouth opened and closed, trying to inhale, to exhale, anything. But nothing.

Colin struck him down and Blaine dropped to his knees. His attacker turned, fists raised in triumph, screaming victory at the stormy sky. Screaming victory at every citizen of Panem who was watching.

But Blaine didn't know that. The world was silent. Every second the span of a lifetime.

He closed his hazel eyes, trying to picture himself encircled in his love's arms again. Warm and safe. Trying to push away the world he was trapped in now.

_I don't want to die here, _he thought.

As the world spun, dark blurring the edges, he closed his eyes and remembered.

He remembered his family, his friends, the Warblers, the New Directions.

He remembered District 1, a little stone cottage, and a meadow.

He remembered Kurt.

He remembered everything about Kurt. From the moment he felt a tap on his shoulder as he walked down the stairs of the Educational Facility to his rusted bike. How he turned to answer and how his world seemed to freeze as he looked into the eyes of the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. How he could almost feel the sparks fly as he took him by the hand.

He remembered their first kiss, the soft touch of Kurt's lips against his. The feel of his hands as they reached up to cup his boyfriend's porcelain face.

He remembered his laughter. His voice. Light and ringing like a chime. The warmth he would get while he listened to it, having no choice but to join in.

He remembered how Kurt made him smile.

He remembered how his eyes would sparkle and the way his nose would crinkle.

He remembered how it felt to fall in love with him.

_I'm so sorry Kurt_, he thought as tears streamed down his face. _I am so sorry I couldn't keep my promise. I'm so sorry I can't see your bright blue eyes light up again. I'm so sorry I can't hold you again. I'm so sorry I can't kiss you again. I'm so sorry I couldn't come home._

Pain consumed his once again. He exhaled. Let himself crumple to the floor and embraced Kurt in his thoughts as his world spun into darkness.

…**.**

**Hugs? **


	18. Chapter 16 Just Entertainment

**A little shorter than usual but it was the best I could do in so little time. Been very busy. And I figured you guys wouldn't want to wait more. But see, I've upheld my promise!**

**Thanks for all the reviews and reads guys. Mean so much. Every single comment just take my breath away and really motivates me to keep going. **

**Well, not going to keep you waiting any longer. **

**So, we now travel to District 1…. **

Kurt's heart froze in his chest.

Around him District 1 was silent. So quiet. Kurt was confused.

Why was it so quiet?

What had happened?

What?

His eyes were glued to the giant screen suspended in front of him but his eyes and mind were telling him two entirely different stories.

Upon the screen, Colin's massive form was magnified, arms raised in victory, yelling his triumph to the skies.

No doubt the fans in the Capitol were loving every minute of it.

Beside him, he heard Rachel crying softly, burying her face into Finn's shoulder, while her boyfriend was just staring in shock at screen. Mercedes was praying quietly, eyes turned up to the sky, but glazing over.

What was happening?

"Why is everyone crying? Blainey's going to wake up right? He's just resting. Santana?" Brittany whispered. The Latina just pulled Brittany close, tears streaking down her stony face.

He felt a warm hand tightly clasp his shoulder. His dad. But he was still frozen in place, unable to acknowledge him as his mind raced.

The cold air bit his cheeks, particularly the places where his tear tracks were drying. Kurt blinked his lashes, feeling another teardrop fall and slide down his face. Why was he crying? Memories and horrible images flashed in his mind and he suddenly remembered watching Blaine getting hurt, being hit over and over, screaming in pain, sobbing in exhaustion as he struggled against the monstrous tribute who was still celebrating on the screen. He remembered how it hurt to watch the love of his life in pain, every blow against his battered body slamming into Kurt's gut. He remembered crying as he watched.

But what had happened?

Why was it so quiet?

Where were all the cheers that had rang out through the air, egging Blaine on?

What had happened?

The image on the screen switched, and suddenly Blaine's lifeless form was suspended above District 1.

_Oh._

Kurt shook his head, eyes staring at his boyfriend's crumpled form. He tilted his head to the side, as if trying to see the screen from a different angle. Blaine was on his side, curls falling onto his eyes, plastered onto his face by the pouring rain. Kurt once again felt the sudden urge to reach and brush those dark curls away from his eyes. He wished he could do that again. Simply brush away curls. Was it so much to ask for?

Kurt started to notice everything wrong with the picture. Blaine's blood pouring out and dripping over the rocks. His too still form.

Kurt blinked. He realized he was holding his breath. Waiting. Waiting for Blaine to stand up and flash a smile to the cameras along with a small wink. Waiting to hear his voice again. Waiting to see those hazel eyes.

His gut dropped and he felt empty inside. His mind still struggling to piece everything together. To comprehend what his eyes were seeing and what it meant.

All the quiet whispers and sobs were quieted and hush fell across the crowd.

Suddenly, an agonized shout tore through the air and he turned to see Blaine's father running at the screen.

"NOOO!"

He screamed in anguish. Pushing through the crowd, as if to launch himself through the screen and protect his son. Kurt watched Cooper Anderson, Blaine's big brother recently returned from District 4 to support his parents in such a difficult time, hold him back, wrapping his strong arms around his father.

"THAT'S MY SON! THAT'S MY BOY!" He sobbed. "THAT'S MY BOY!"

The square erupted with sobs, shouts, protests, and cries.

Kurt stood among the roiling crowd feeling his heart drop heavily as he finally figured it out.

_Blaine._

_Blaine was… _

_Blaine._

_Dead._

_Blaine…_

_Blaine was dead. _

Kurt felt he was watching from above. He realized that he was trying to force his way to the screen. Why was he struggling against the arms that held him back? He figured he was just trying something, _anything_, to get to his boyfriend and kiss him awake and hold him in his arms.

But he was miles from where he was.

And he couldn't save him now.

Kurt collapsed on his knees as his father held him close, arms still wound tight around his chest like a vice. He screamed and sobbed, slender body heaving as each sob tore out of him. The sounds of his heart tearing itself apart, ripping itself apart and setting itself on fire.

No.

_No._

Not Blaine. Not Blaine.

Kurt shook, sobs subsiding as he looked back up at the screen. The camera was still trained on Blaine's motionless form. Why? Why did they still insist on parading it upon the screen? Anger bubbled inside him as his father helped him to his feet.

"We get it!" He shouted angrily, tears rolling over his cheeks. "We see it! We see _him-_"He choked, voice cracking and shifting into another sob.

His father shushed him quietly, whispering soothing words in his ear, urging his son to look away. But Kurt couldn't.

He stood shaking as he stared at Blaine's body on the screen.

When suddenly.

A movement.

Blaine was slowly shifting his fingers, rolling onto his back, face screwed in pain.

District 1 collectively gasped as Blaine twisted onto his knees, dragging himself up to stand, limbs and body visibly shaking with the effort. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip hard as to not give away his presence, Blaine slowly slid the knife out of his body, tears of agony dripping down his pale and bruised face.

Kurt was silent, the heart in his throat beating wildly. He dared not utter a word. Or a breath. In fear that maybe Colin could hear him and look behind him. He watched Blaine take a shaky step forward, pain flashing across his face with every movement.

Another step.

And another.

Another.

Panem watched, eyes wide, as Blaine crept up behind Colin, who still ridiculously roaring to audience, hungry for their attention. Suddenly reaching over and pressing the knife against the other tribute's throat, Blaine choked out softly, whispering menacingly in his ear as every microphone was straining to hear his words:

"This isn't just entertainment."

And with that, in one swift motion, Blaine sliced the blade across Colin's throat.

**YAY! He's alive! Come on people, did you actually think I would kill Blaine in such an expected fashion? I'm disappointed, so disappointed haha. But honestly you have been such good sports, taking my trolling like champs so thank you. **

**Next Thursday (hopefully) same time same place. **

**(About the submissions for the contest, I've only received 2 and I'm deciding to pick 3 winners. So guys send in your stuff! Submissions are due next Thursday.) **

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12 **

**Thank you all so very much again and please please please please please review! **


	19. Chapter 17 One Last Chance

**Hello there! **

**I had the song **_**Down**_** by Jason Walker in mind as I wrote this. It is a beautiful song and sets the mood so I would recommend listening to it before reading, but do whatever you wish. **

**Again, thank you all so very much. I cannot thank you all enough. I can't believe people like this and this is such a great experience. For every single review, every single read, every single fanart, every single message, I'm speechless and you make my day. I love you all! **

**Okay, down to business. I must admit, this chapter is shorter than I had planned. But I was so busy this week and had absolutely no time to write. But, I managed to get something so here it goes (we're back in the Capitol): **

Blaine watched numbly as Colin crashed to the floor at his feet. He stood staring at the dead tribute below him in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The rain was still pouring heavily on the scene but all seemed silent.

The bloody blade slipped out of his hands and fell soundlessly to the ground. Blaine was faintly aware that it should have clattered against the rocks below but all he could focus on was the way his breath wheezed in and out of his battered chest, fighting its way down his bruised throat and struggling into his tired lungs.

All he knew was that he had to keep breathing, to keep fighting.

Keep breathing

In

Out

In

O-o-out

He let his head roll back, face upturned towards the stormy sky. Freezing droplets fell against his heated skin as the thunder rolled above. But he was still immersed in silence.

Just breathe

In

Out

In

Out

Keep breathing, keep fighting.

In

Out

Blinking the water from his hazel eyes, Blaine winced as he straightened up. A canon sounded through the air the Blaine knew he had to leave quickly before the hovercraft came to collect Colin's body.

Three tributes left.

One arm hanging uselessly and the other clutching the almost mortal wound in his side, Blaine took another breath and stumbled hastily away, not even bothering to recollect his knife knowing that if he faced another tribute now it would be hopeless.

Life seemed to be the time between breaths and the seconds between steps. He just continued walking long after the hovercraft whipped the branches of the trees and disappeared beyond the clouds.

His body screamed and Blaine listened, stopping for a second. All he wanted to do was lie on the ground, use the soaking leaves as pillows, ignore the rain pouring above, ignore everyone watching, and just fall asleep. Just fall asleep. He was tired. So so tired. His eyes could barely stay open. Lashes seemed leaden with the weight of the word and they just wanted to fall shut.

But no.

Keep breathing.

Keep fighting.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Shaking his head to clear the fog from his mind, Blaine blinked his eyes quickly, commanding himself to wake up. It wasn't over yet.

Dawn was just starting to break over the arena, the sun barely noticeable through the grey clouds. The rain had slowed but was still falling heavily.

Soaked to the bone, Blaine shivered. The loss of blood and freezing rain made his body weak and Blaine knew just how vulnerable he was at the moment. How prone he is to an attack. One tribute. One animal. One obstacle and it was over. It was all over.

Hopelessness washed over him in a wave and he felt the urge to just crumple up and sob. And just cry. Cry until it was all gone. Cry until it was over. Just cry. He wanted to just curl up and give up. His heart couldn't take it, his body sure as hell couldn't take it, and his mind was running out of answers.

Everything felt detached, as if he was watching the gloomy scene from above spin out of focus. He clung to one thought, a thread that slowly hardened and enlarged to a binding chain that secured him to Earth.

Kurt. 

_Pull yourself together Blaine_, he chided himself silently.

_Take another breath. _

In

Out

_And another._

In

Out

_Just breathe. _

The flog slowly began to fade away. The world was still blurred, but he could think a little. The pain was a constant reminder that he was alive and held him awake. In this moment of vague clarity, Blaine listened. Listened to the pitter patter of the raindrops against the forest floor. Listened to the low rumble of the thunder that rolled above his head. Listened to the bubbling of the rushing water…

What?

Rushing water?

Blaine's eyes flashed open and he looked to the source, eyes widening in horror as he took in the waves of water lapping the floor a few meters away, edging ever closer.

The arena was flooding.

Adrenaline resurged through his veins and instantly he knew he had to get to higher ground. And fast.

Eyes tilted up to the highest mountain in the arena, not so far off, and he began to move. As he stumbled toward the mountain, feet somehow managing to lead him in the right direction, Blaine realized that this was the Gamemakers giving him a chance. Giving him a chance to survive. They were driving the last three tributes together for a final confrontation. They weren't going to drag it out and let him die from his injuries in some cave somewhere. Oh no.

After all, where's the fun in that?

It was going to be one last fight. One final act to end the twenty-third annual Hunger Games. The victor would be the first to the top of the mountain. At the top of the world.

How fitting.

And there was a chance, maybe a one chance in a million, but still a chance that he could survive.

A small chance that he could win.

That he could go home.

That he could sing another song.

That he could see Kurt again.

It was a small chance, but he was going to take it.

Or literally die trying.

**Please review! Reviews help me write faster and get those chapters up! Seriously. They take so little time but they mean so much! Please?**

**Thanks for reading and I'll see you Thursday for the next installment! **

**My tumblr: aslytherinindistrict12 **


	20. Chapter 18 Blue Eyes

**Hey everyone! Happy Thursday! **

**Yay I'm happy you're still here and reading! Thank you! I have a few announcements but I'll make them at the end of the chapter. But now, go ahead and read! Hope you like it!**

**(By the way I was jammin to Florence and Machine music when I wrote this if you guys want to get the mood. Yes I write through music.) **

Hope surges through him, giving him new energy and suddenly he's at the foot of the mountain and it looms over him. Squinting his eyes against the rain, he sees the peak above, the tiniest shaft of sunlight peeking over it. It was so close, but yet so far.

Time to climb.

A violent wind rips across the arena, dead leaves and dust swirling across the sky. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and presses his body closer to the rocks fearing the gust of wind would tear him off the mountain.

Once it passes, the freezing droplets slicing across his face, Blaine reopens his hazel eyes.

Another breath. Another step.

He had found a path up the mountain that skirted the steepest of cliffs so he was able to semi-walk semi-stumble his way up. This way he didn't have to make the treacherous climb. Climbing was probably the fastest way up but he knew he had no strength to carry his body up the mountain and knew that his shoulder certainly couldn't take the strain.

The pain was always there. Constantly shaking his body into violent tremors and making him feel like he was being ripped into pieces, limb by limb.

A large ledge blocked his path and Blaine groans. Taking a deep breath he pulls on the gloves tighter. With a cry of pain he drags himself up, using his feet to help support him. It feels like his shoulder is being sliced off his body. Maybe that would be better.

Another shout and he manages to haul himself up. At the top, he rolls slowly onto his back, feet still dangling off the edge. His arms shake and pain shoots like lightning down his nerves, and he tenses as the current runs through his veins.

He realizes that he is crying softly, the tears mingling with the cold rain that is still pelting down on the arena. His body was finally betraying him as he begins to lose control. The black spots return and creep around the edges of his vision.

It was almost over.

In some way or the other.

Keep breathing keep fighting.

He knew the world was watching and he tries to stop the tears. But he couldn't.

_I can't keep thinking about the audience_, he thinks to himself, his words even slurring in his thoughts as his mind fights to focus. The crowd couldn't save him now. This wasn't just about entertainment anymore. It was too late for that. All he has to think about now is staying alive.

With a deep breath, he rolls over and uses the rocks beside him to haul himself onto his feet. Pain shakes at his very core as his muscles and wounds cry out in protest, and he is vaguely aware of his warm blood spilling down his body, a sharp contrast to the rain overhead.

Clothes clinging to his body and tears streaming down his face, made invisible by the rain, he exhales. He shakes the curls from his eyes, not finding the strength to reach up and brush them away.

The world slows once again as he tries to find his breath and draw the strength to carry on. The scorching pain is a constant reminder that he's alive, and he lets it settle and ebb. He looks down to his feet and shifts them slowly, listening as the gravel crunches, the small rocks rolling and pattering against each other.

He sways on his feet, spreading his good arm out to steady himself. Every droplet of rain feels like it is trying to push him to his feet. It's as if the Gamemakers are trying to hammer him down, drop by drop, until he is part of the arena itself. But he stays on his feet, and breathes.

Once he regains a trace of composure, he moves away from the rocks that support him, hope once again surging through his ravaged body as he realizes that his feet can hold him up.

Moving towards the edge carefully, he peers down, trying to catch a glimpse of the other tributes.

His sight is blurred and he squints, trying to make sense of the shapes behind the rain.

Nothing.

With a sigh of relief he moves to turn and continue on his path. Maybe the flood managed to drown them and they are just clinging to life and that's why the canons haven't sounded and any second now they are going to announce his victory and he'll hold Kurt in his arms again-

Wait.

Shit.

Two shapes, one far below and the other dangerously close behind materialize, climbing to the same target. The peak at the top of all things.

His heart catches in his throat and fear fills him. They are climbing and fighting and they look so strong and he doesn't stand a chance against them.

No.

Just breathe.

In

Out

In

Out

Turning away he continues up the rocky path, faster, and ever faster, ignoring his body who screams for him to stop and give up.

Kurt.

Must get home.

Kurt.

The air thins as he climbs higher, nearing the peak, and the path steepens until he is half climbing. It _hurts_ but he doesn't dare stop.

_Just a little while longer, a little longer, almost there, _he encourages himself, emitting a pain laced wail as he drags his body up another ledge.

And another.

And then another.

Suddenly a scream tears him out of his diligent climb and he instantly moves to the edge to see the source.

Not far below, two tributes struggle. A boy and a girl. The girl is below the boy, who looks exhausted and is probably badly injured. She's grabbing his ankle, trying to pull him off the mountain and down into the roiling water below, but he clings tightly to the rocks. She pulls herself up a few feet, and suddenly metal flashes through the air as she draws out a sword from the sheath strapped to her back, and without a moment's hesitation, she strikes his head from his shoulders. Blaine watches in horror as she smirks as the boy's corpse tumbles off the rocks and falls into the water below with a splash.

A canon sounds.

Two tributes left.

One is armed and strong. The other is unarmed and mortally wounded.

Capitol audience, place your bets.

Blaine feels his heart flutter in his chest, and he tears his eyes off the steadily climbing killer who draws ever closer and scrambles up the mountain.

The peak appears and with a shout of pain and victory, he pulls himself up to the top. He rises to his feet, and turns. The entire arena is splayed out before him, and it's covered in water. The tips of the tallest trees are barely visible and the other mountains rise out of the water, as if reaching for the sky.

The rain still falls mercilessly and although the air is so thin, so thin that Blaine can barely find a breath, the wind is stronger up here. It runs through his wet curls, picking them up and whipping them about.

He is silent, absorbing the scene. He is so high, but it is such a far way to fall.

It's almost over.

A hand appears and grasps at the rocks for purchase. Blaine numbly makes his way towards it as its companion joins it. He looks down cautiously, and sees the girl trying to haul herself up.

It's so easy. Too easy. So easy to simply kick her off the mountain. He draws his foot back, numbly preparing to do just that and end this once and for all, when she looks up, brown hair whipping around her sharply chiseled face.

She has blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Blaine freezes and she looks up at him, blue eyes wide and glittering. "Please." She whispers. "Don't."

Blaine shuts his eyes for a second. God he can't do this. He can't. He just can't. Not another, please not another.

His throat thickens and tears creep out of his lashes and spill hotly down his cold face. Squeezing his eyes tighter to trap the rest within, he pictures home and Kurt. For a second he imagines the faces of those he loves, tries to recreate them in his blurred memory. But they were surrounded by the images of the tributes he had killed and the sounds of the dying.

He feels something bubble up in his chest. Not horror at what had contaminated his thoughts but _anger_. Anger at what the Games had made-no forced him to become.

He realizes it is too late.

Too late to find that empathy for the tribute below him.

Too late to rediscover the pity he once used to possess.

Too late to care.

With his heart empty, mind numb, and body wrought with pain Blaine opens his eyes, and looks down at the girl. Her blue eyes search his face with innocence and fear, but he sees the sword being unsheathed.

He blinks and with a soft exhale he hears the crunch of his boot against her face and watches as she loses her grip with a scream and begins to fall, grabbing wildly at the air.

Face unchanged, he stands at the edge, looking on numbly as she hits the water below with a violent crack and sinks below the dark waves.

A minute passes, and Blaine stares. Unable to comprehend.

A canon sounds.

Trumpets begin to blare, ringing through the stormy air.

The announcer's voice is projected around the arena, along with the sound of applause, live from the Capitol.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to present the victor of the Twenty-Third Hunger Games, Blaine Anderson! I give you – the tribute of District One!"

**Now before you go and close that window and sigh in relief because this fic is over, I SAY WAIT. WE'RE NOT DONE YET! There is still more of the story to be told. We're going to go back to the Capitol next and see what happens at the interview and find out if Blaine is still the same bow-tie loving dork we all adore, or is he just another piece of their games? Also, unlike the actual novel ****The Hunger Games**** I'm going to continue further and explore Blaine coming home. I mean, this **_**is**_** a Klaine fic and it remains incomplete until they see each other again, right? **

**Although this sounds like a lot, it really isn't. Probably just 3 chapters and a short epilogue. Yes, we are almost done. **

**Also, I have the winners of the contest! I have chosen two. I was going to make it one, but I honestly can't choose between these two fabulous graphics. Thank you so much to cellogrrl123 and katieo97 for their entries as well. **

**However, CONGRATULATIONS TO theamazingalissa and klaine19! Go to my blog aslytherinindistrict12 or the "from where you are crossover" tag to check them out. If you don't have tumblr, you can go find this version of the story on Scarves and Coffee and I have the pictures posted there in the end notes of this chapter. **

**You two have to contact me somehow, so we can figure out how to get you guys the chapter. Talk to me through tumblr or PM me or email me at . **

**And that is about it until next week. Unfortunately I'm going to be out of town on Wednsday and Thursday so I'm going to post the chapter on Friday instead. Hear that? NEXT CHAPTER IS ON FRIDAY! **

**Again, thank you all so very much for reading, I'm thrilled you continue to stick around. **

**Please please take a minute to review. It takes so little time but means so much and motivates me immensely. Thank you! **

**Much gratitude and many hugs 3 **


	21. Chapter 19 Numb

**Hey everyone! **

**Here's the chapter as promised! I wrote most of this on the bus so it isn't great but better than nothing I guess. Sorry about that. Also, since I didn't get much chance to write, I've decided to split the Capitol action into this chapter and another. So that means that the fic is going to be a little longer. Hope no one minds! **

**Enjoy! **

Applause roars around the arena, shaking the entire structure. Frozen in shock, Blaine felt his knees weaken and it was all he could to stay upright. The rain stopped and suddenly Blaine looks up to see a hovercraft block out the newly uncovered the sun. Its blades slice through the air sending gusts of wind around the peak. A ladder was sent down, rolling until it hung in front of the newly crowned victor.

Blaine just stares at it for a second.

Where was it going to take him? Was he actually leaving this godforsaken arena? Over the past few days, felt like centuries, this arena was his entire world.

It was over.

_It was over._

He had won.

He had beat the odds.

He was going home.

Home.

Blaine shakily raises his good arm, wincing in pain as his entire body screams at the simple movement and the instant he touches the ladder, he is attached by an electric current and pulled up into the hovercraft, the noise of the crowd still ringing in his ears.

A blur of darkness and color and suddenly he is inside the metal beast, in a room of white, silver, and glass.

He collapses onto the cold clean floor, and dimly through the fog that was steadily rolling into his mind he realizes the immense contrast between his bloodied body and the brilliant white ground.

As he lies there, suddenly he feels a piercing pain in his chest. He gasps and tries to breathe, tries to slow the beating of his heart that is quickly stuttering to the end of its last fight.

_Just breathe Blaine._

In.

In.

In.

The oxygen he draws in isn't converted or processed or recognized. He can't take that breath. The fog thickens and he hears cries of agony through the blur, and dimly recognizes it is him. He lost control of his body and he tries and fails to draw a breath.

Just one more.

One last breath.

You can't give in now.

Not now.

Not after all you've been through. Not after everything you've done. Not after you've won.

In.

In

In

Through the haze he barely recognizes that people clad in white are running to him. He feels himself being gently lifted onto a stretcher and deposited upon a cold metal table.

The doctors and attendants work around him, buzzing about and shouting orders. But all he can think of now is the pain. The pain he had managed to trap behind walls. But the walls collapse at once and he feels his back arch and body writhe on the cold metal as liquid fire runs scorching through his veins, paralyzing his conscious in a burning room in his mind as he loses all control. The world was spinning.

Was

Slipping

Away-

-

-

-

"We're losing him. 1, 2, clear"

Freezing metal smashes against his chest shocks him back to reality, senses heightened and pain flared. God would it just end. Just end. He wanted it to be over. He is so tired. Why were they still fighting to keep his heart beating? Hadn't he done enough? Hadn't he served his purpose? Why wouldn't they just let him sleep?

"Come on Blaine, stay with us." a voice above him urges. "He's flat lining again. Ready. 1,2, clear."

Another bolt through his system and he feels himself return again to a world of fire and ice, the fog clearing for a fleeting second.

_Blaine you made a promise. Fight._

_Breathe._

In

In

In

Out

In

Out

He feels his heart retake its proper rhythm, beating steadily in his battered chest. Suddenly laughs and cheers as his hazel eyes flutter open.

A rush of cold air as he feels his clothes being gently cut out of the way, and sharp intakes of breath as the doctors and nurses take in his tattered skin. The firm press of towels against his wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Glad to have you back, Mr. Anderson. We're going to give you some sedatives so we can begin to patch you up. Don't worry, you'll be as good as new soon enough."

A sharp prick against his skin and Blaine tilts his head back onto the table with an exhausted exhale. His eyes flutter close again, and then there is a hand against his forehead, softly brushing the plastered curls away. Blaine relaxes a little at the gentle touch, breathing slowly as he hears Pheebee Crippet whisper, "Well done Anderson. Very well done." into his ear as he welcomes the approaching black with eager arms.

-

Blaine awoke, squinting his eyes against the light above him. He is in a windowless room of white. It is empty except for his bed, tubes running from his body up into the wall behind. He blinks, once, twice. He carefully moves to take a breath, getting ready for the sharp pain that has become part of the process. But there's no pain. He breathes steadily, drinking in the oxygen deep.

He's thirsty. He licks his lips, opening his mouth to call out, but his voice is an illegible rasp. He tries to sit up, and realizes he is naked, white sheets cool against his skin. The sheet slips off his shoulder and he looks, eyes wide, at the unflawed skin. No evidence of the savage tear that had ripped across it remains.

A door slides open and suddenly there's a nurse dressed in white. She readjusts the sheet and then there's a cold cup against his lips and he drinks eagerly. She pulls back and there's a sharp prick against his forearm and the world falls away again.

The next time Blaine awakes he's in a different room. It is large, with his bed, a dresser, a chair, and a piano. And he isn't alone. A nurse is fiddling with the tubes, detaching them from his body. Crippet is talking in hushed tones to a doctor in the corner. He clears he throat, trying to find his voice.

"When can I go home?" He rasps, voice weak.

The nurse disappears and Crippet and the doctor approach his bedside.

"Welcome back Anderson." Crippet says quietly.

The doctor glances wearily at his mentor before turning to Blaine, "We've managed to heal the majority of your wounds. You've been unconscious for a couple of days. You're muscles are going to sore for a while, but all we can do there is make sure you get some rest."

"When can I go home?" Blaine repeats with a tired sigh.

"Well-"

Crippet interrupts the doctor, "You've been unconscious for a week Blaine. The Capitol is getting restless. They want to see their victor. If we can get you on air tomorrow for the interview, and then you can head home sooner. You'll be in a little pain, but with some mild sedatives you'll survive. You're going to have to rest a lot at home though in order to recover some strength but—"

"I'll do it. Anything to get home. I just want to go home."

Icy eyes soften, and she clears her throat before replying, "Of course. You just relax for a bit and tomorrow morning we'll get your prep team up here and make sure you're ready. Now if you both excuse me, I need to make a couple of calls." And with that, she strides out of the room.

The doctor turns to Blaine, "It's going to hurt a bit, but I'm not going to give you any sedative now so you don't fall asleep again. I'll have an attendant bring some food up." He moves away, halfway out the room before turning back, "Oh, and Mr. Anderson? Congratulations on your victory. I really enjoyed your performance." The door shuts behind him with a click.

Blaine sits up, slipping off the bed, wincing as his muscles pull and stretch. Biting his lip, he stands. Not bad. Not bad at all. Walking shakily, he sits on the piano bench, flawlessly manicured fingers brushing lightly across the keys. He can barely recognize his own hand.

He moves to play, to make some sort of music. But can't find the heart. He just sits. Numb. Trying to feel anything at all. Excitement, relief, sorrow, loss.

Anything.

He gasps. It isn't the physical pain that hurts. It is something deeper.

That feeling in your chest where you feel like someone is crushing your heart in their fist.

That feeling of your heart dropping lower and lower, sinking and drowning for some unexplainable reason, although there is nothing wrong. Although it's over.

That feeling that there is a gaping hole, yawning and tearing ever wider. It isn't necessarily a real pain. It doesn't make you scream and look for a bandage.

It's much worse.

It's that feeling that leaves you standing and breathless in shock. Everything is numb except that emptiness in your chest. It's that feeling that makes you search frantically for something to fill it up. It's too empty. And you just want it to go away. _Just go away_, you scream.

But no amount of screaming, crying, eating, sleeping, thinking, dreaming, or reading can fill that hole. It's just there. And it won't go away. Even when everything is right, it's there and it's pulling you down, beating your heart mercilessly until you feel like you can't take it anymore. You just want to feel again. You want your heart back. You want to feel it race and flutter in your chest. You want it to make you cry. You want it to make you sweat. Anything but this continuous numbness that is worse than the most scorching agony. This emptiness that makes you clutch at your chest, surprised that your hand doesn't sink straight through.

And no one seems to notice.

That feeling.

That feeling that is silently ripping you apart, and you just sit motionless, a scream trapped in the back of your mind. A protest left unheard.

That feeling.

Why won't it just go away?

**See you Thursday! Thank you for reading! Please review!**


	22. Chapter 19 Part 2 What They Say

**Oh men aren't I unpredictable. An unannounced update the same day I updated. Who does that? I must drive you guys insane. Sorry about that. **

**Ok, so someone (Porcelein) said that they wanted to read a Kurt reaction. And I had to appease. So voila, a short Kurt POV. Hope you enjoy it! **

In District 1:

The screen was black. Not a movement, not a rustle, not a sound. It is blank.

Kurt stares, heart caught in his throat so high, he fears it will stop him from breathing. Not like he can anyway. He holds his breath so long he's afraid he'll forget how to take another. But none of that matters now. All that matters is that the love of his life was somewhere. And he didn't know what was happening.

Blaine was the victor.

Supposedly.

They say that he had won. That was what the announcer had echoed across the arena as Blaine, soaked in rain and blood, had stood emotionlessly. Almost as he had stood a few weeks ago at the reaping. That day that had changed everything. It felt like it belonged to a different age, a different century, a different lifetime, a different story.

They say he had won. That is what they had said. They told them all to go home and then return a week later to learn more. To find out whether he had survived. Whether the doctors were able to save him. And that was what Kurt had done. He had stayed at home, falling into gruesome dreams. What was worse was that they weren't his imagination. They were real. They were memories of Blaine being ripped apart by tributes, bears, and a mountain. He had stayed at home, silent and numb, staring down at old pictures and letters and a dried corsage of a better time.

They say that he had won. And that was all that mattered. District 1 was going to get the rewards, the food, the fame, the honor.

But don't they understand that the words "Blaine Anderson is the victor" were meaningless? Kurt wanted, no_needed_, to hear that Blaine was alive. Needed to hear that his heart was still beating. Needed to know that he would hold him in his arms again.

The last Kurt had seen of Blaine he was being lifted into a giant hovercraft that soared up and out of the arena. Through the past few days, he had watched the love of his life cry, scream, shout,climb and run. He had watched him fight and kill. He had watched him fall asleep, something he had dreamed of doing while they were together. What a cruel reality it was that the first time he had watched Blaine fall asleep was while he was bloody, battered, bruised, and miles away. Miles from where he was. Miles from his arms.

Now he stood waiting for the news. All of District 1 was assembled. And they were silent. Not a whisper. Their breath rises in whisps of white mist into the chilled air. A cough. A sniffle. A cleared throat.

Suddenly the screen flickers to life. There's a Capitol announcer upon it, with her ridiculously done make-up and hair. A smile is plastered onto her face, as it always is.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Panem," She giggles, voice high and insincere. "I am pleased to announce that your victor of this year's Hunger Games, Blaine Anderson of District 1, is alive. The doctor's were able to keep him stable and were able to operate. He will make a full recovery. The odds were certainly in his favor! Join us tomorrow with Ceasar Flickerman, who will interview this young man on his victory. Later tonight, we recap the highlights of this year's exciting games."

The Capitol anthem plays, and the screen switches off again.

Silence.

And then cheers. Roars of laughter and applause as the district celebrates the survival of their son, friend, brother, student, and victor.

Kurt is being hugged from everywhere but all he can do is smile, unable to keep it from spreading across his face and lighting up his eyes and the relieved tears from streaking down his face.

Blaine was alive. Against all the odds he had survived.

Blaine had won. Against all the odds he he had won.

Blaine was coming home.

**It that what you Kurt lovers wanted? Does that satisfy your needs? Haha **

**(You'll still get your next chapter a day before the Hunger Games is due to be released!) **

**Please review! **


	23. Chapter 20 Applause

**Hey everyone! **

**Sorry this is so late! Crazy week! AND THE HUNGER GAMES! SOO GOOD! I highly highly recommend it, regardless of whether you read the book or not. Go see it! I loved it! **

**Okay, I'm not going to keep you waiting longer, so here it is, Chapter 20! This chapter is the last chapter in the Capitol. It more sets the stage for what is going to happen next in District 1. Hope you like it! **

In the Capitol:

The screen door slid open and Crippet emerged. Blaine rose from the piano bench, where he had remained the entire night, unable to sleep as his mind was plagued by nightmares, gruesome memories from his time spent at the arena. Flashes of red and rain, innocent blue eyes and dying brown ones, screams of pain, roaring bears, roiling waves.

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't dream of Kurt.

He couldn't miss Lizzie.

He couldn't sing.

He couldn't even cry.

He hated this.

He hated it all.

Why wouldn't it just end?

"Let's go Anderson." Crippet calls out softly, aware of what he was feeling as she remembers how she felt when she had won. It didn't feel like winning at all. To be the only survivor while 23 had died.

Where was the victory in that?

Blaine slips out of the room behind his mentor, wincing at the ache of his sore muscles.

Noticing, Crippet remarks, "The doctors will give you some painkillers for that before you go out."

Blaine nods, and the rest of the way to the Prep Centre is silent.

The familiar white doors slide open and as Blaine steps in, there is applause. A few tears. Many cheers. Blaine forces a smile on his face and York greets him with a laugh, patting him on the back.

"Oh splendid job Blaine absolutely splendid. You looked absolutely fabulous! But no time to chat! We need to get you ready for that interview!"

Blaine almost smiles for real at York's classic enthusiasm. Just for the sake of his friend, he asks quietly, "Will I get to wear that bowtie?"

York claps his hand giddily, "Why of course Blaine, of course. I'm going to go and put the final touches to your outfit while the prep team does your hair and makeup. Just the usual procedure." And with that, he disappears, and Blaine is seated, the prep team buzzing about him. Trimming, polishing, painting, coloring, gelling.

Through the blur of white, he notices Crippet standing and watching.

"Why are you still here? Don't you usually leave?"

"Just making sure these crazy people don't eat you. You've been in enough danger as of late." Crippet shoots back sharply, "Not to mention I want to see how the miracle of getting you to look presentable works."

Blaine stares at her reflection in the mirror, blank hazel eyes, void of the twinkle they used to have. "Thank you," he says softly.

"Just doing my job."

The two look at each other, holding each other's gaze for a minute before the corners of their mouths twitch upwards for a fleeting second. An equivalent of a roar of laughter for the pair.

Hours pass, and once again, Blaine is plucked, polished, and prepared, hair gelled and tamed, the bags under his eyes cleverly hidden under careful makeup.

He's led to the room of clothes where York helps him into white silk button down and a graphite suit that shimmers dully in the light at every movement. Once again, the suit is smartly tailored and flatters his every feature. He realizes that there is slight padding added to it, to make up for the weight lost during the arena, just to make sure he looks like he's in pristine condition.

How kind of them.

Blaine watches flatly as York steps away and pulls out a small deep red bowtie, various shades stenciled in. Tiny delicate swirls and lines etched into the glimmering silk. It was beautiful. But as York fastens it to his collar, Blaine doesn't even draw a breath. Or smile. Or care.

It's just a bowtie.

York notices this change, a small frown settling on his face but he doesn't say a word. His eyes blur over a second as he remembers the boy who first came, finding so much joy and wonder in a single bowtie, giddy with excitement, every emotion playing across his face and in his twinkling eyes. Now that boy is back, eyes blank, emotionless. A shadow of what he was.

York wants to cry that the boy he first met is still lost in that arena. Somewhere within the murky water, the towering mountains, and the corpses of the dead. But he can't, he just turns around, making himself occupied by organizing some pins. He clears his throat, "So… Everything comfortable?" He asks the boy.

"Yes. Thank you."

Crippet walks in, with a small bottle and crystal glass of water. "Looking good Blaine. Great work York. As always, your work is appreciated. Congratulations."

York nods stiffly.

"Blaine, I need you to take these pills. They're for the pain." She gives them to the victor and he swallows them while she continues, "Now directly after the interviews we'll board the train and you'll be going home. There isn't going to be a lot of mess with the press because the doctors explicitly explained to everyone that you need your rest so you can heal. So you should have some peace for a couple of weeks."

"So when will I be home?" He whispers softly.

"Tomorrow afternoon." Crippet replies gently. "Now, the interview starts soon. I was thinking that you play a song, the crowd will want to hear…"

"No." Blaine interrupts firmly.

"Excuse me?"

"I won't. I have done every single thing you have asked me to. I've won. I've played their games. But I can't sing."

"But…"

"No. You can't make me. I can't sing."

Crippet stares at the boy before her. A moment passes, and then she clears her throat and turns away. "Fine. York, is he ready?"

"Yes he is."

"Good. Let's go."

Blaine follows his stylist and mentor and freezes outside the elevator. There's no one waiting there.

"Blaine?" Yorks asks hesitantly. "We have to go."

"Wait, shouldn't we wait for Lizzie?" Blaine says confused, looking around for his friend.

Crippet walks over. "Let's go." She pulls him softly into the elevator.

"But what… Oh." He quiets.

"It's okay Blaine." York comforts, touching his shoulder.

Blaine jerks away. "No it's not."

The rest of the way down is silent. No one speaks. The doors slide open and Blaine can hear the crowds cheering already. But his heart doesn't flutter or he isn't nervous. He just walks up to the stage stairs, Crippet encouraging him silently with her presence. She mutters careful pointers: keep your personae, be honest, be grateful, etc.

Blaine nods while Caesar Flickerman spins in his chair greeting the audience.

"Welcome everyone! Here with us, we have the victor of this year's Hunger Games, District 1's Blaine Anderson!"

The crowd explodes as Blaine walks on stage, forcing a small smile to his lips and winking to the cameras. He takes a seat across from the interviewer who shakes his hand.

"Well well well I just knew I was going to be seeing you again! Didn't you?" He looks at the audience, laughing loudly before turning back to Blaine, "But honestly, you were quite a surpise. District 1 doesn't usually win and there were quite a few times when we thought you were done for. How does it feel now that you've won, despite everything?"

Blaine exhales. "Honestly, I don't know. I feel so happy that I get to go home, but it all feels so unreal. I wasn't expecting to win and now that I have… Well, all that matters is I'm going home."

"Yes yes. Now Blaine, tell me." Ceasar asks in his liquid voice, moving closer to Blaine. The Capitol is silent as they all wait to hear the victor's words. "What got you through those hard moments. What got you back on your feet?"

"Just remembering the people I love. Knowing that they were watching me. Knowing that I promised them that I would come home." Blaine says quietly.

"You kept that promise. I am sure they will be proud of you."

"I want them to be."

"Well here in the Capitol we are aren't we?" Ceasar calls out to the audience with his phony laugh. "Aren't we?"

The audience cheers and screams, a wall of sound rising into the dark night.

"Thank you." Blaine looks directly at them and the cameras. "Thank you all. If it wasn't for you sponsors, for your support, I wouldn't be here right now. Thank you."

"No thank you Blaine." Caesar quips. "Thank you for such an entertaining games and such beautiful music. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you, your victor, Blaine Anderson!"

The two stand and Caesar lifts Blaine's hand in victory as the audience roars its approval. Blaine is marched up to the platform where President Snow sits. A gold circlet is placed atop his dark, slicked curls amidst the continuous applause and President Snow takes his hand with a smile, shaking it firmly.

"Congratulations Mr. Anderson. Quite a performance."

"Thank you Mr. President." Blaine replies steadily, resisting the urge to crinkle his nose at the scent of roses and blood that lingers on the dictator before him.

"You must be excited to go home to the girl of your dreams."

"The boy of my dreams actually. And yes, I cannot wait."

**So that's it for this week. Only one more week till Spring Break, so hopefully during my vacation I can post more. **

**I am thinking now 3 chapters and an epilogue. So please, if you want to see anything happen, or want a song, or want anything, now is the time to tell me. The fic is ending guys! Thank you all so much!**

**Now please please review! Please! **


	24. Chapter 21 Hello

**Hey! **

**Sorry this is late. I meant to have it up yesterday but I fell asleep. Sorry. I'm glad you're still sticking around despite my lateness haha. **

**Thank you all so much. For the reviews, for the tracked stories, and favorited stories, and even favorite authors and author alerts. It's just crazy. To receive so much positive feedback and support for my first fanfic is just madness. I can't believe you still want to read this and are liking it. You're all so encouraging and I'd never have gotten so far without you. Thank you so much! **

**Okay, enough sappiness from me. I give you your next chapter!**

President Snow dropped Blaine's hand quickly, the smile still plastered on his face but his cold eyes registering a fleeting moment of surprise. But he does nothing, and with a final bow, Blaine is escorted off the stage.

Moments flash in blurs of white, helmets, lights, guns, colors. Crippet is behind him, hand firmly pressed to the small of his back and pushing him ahead. The two and York are surrounded by Peacekeepers who lead them through the screaming throng of fans in the Capitol and into the station where he first arrived.

The train is waiting and Blaine steps within it, closely followed by his mentor. York gathers him in hug, patting his back gently, "Going to miss you kid. Take care." And with that he pushes a small box into Blaine's hands and steps out, the door sliding closed with a click.

Crippet barely has time to lead Blaine into the main room before the train lurches forward, flying into the distance, and Blaine can barely comprehend that with every heartbeat and every passing second, he is getting closer to District 1.

Closer to Kurt.

Closer to home.

He looks into the room, the familiarity of it shattering his reality. It felt like he was here years ago. It looks same. There's that small piano in corner where he had sang of home, and sang with a small girl with wispy blonde hair. There's that couch, where he had pulled Lizzie into his arms, craving the feeling of safety. There's where she had quoted a famous book and had nicknamed their district escort.

Memories, crazy memories that belonged to a different lifetime, to an entirely different person. He wished he could turn back time to when this never had happened, a time where this room and the people who walked in it weren't a reality. Back to before his name was read off a small slip of paper, echoed across a crowded square. Back to before he had heard the love of his life scream his name and cry. Back to before he had waited in a small room and made a promise he never believed he would keep.

He wanted to turn back time to where he was in a meadow with tall grasses and little flowers and a tall strong tree against his back. Back to a guitar smoothed by generations of hands and chocolate cookies and stolen kisses as the sun sank past the horizon.

What a crazy story.

A story of a boy with hazel eyes and a bloody alarm clock that rang at the most inconvenient times. A story of a boy who loved an old broken bike that was being abused by his boyfriend. A story of a boy who loved another.

It's hard to believe that that romantic silly story included that same boy being stolen away and forced to fight to the death. To cry. To shout. To kill. To come out as pieces of the person he once was.

Who would want to read such a story?

How could it have a happy ending?

Blaine could barely comprehend anything, lost in thought as Crippet tugs him lightly into his compartment, pushing him onto the bed and unlacing his shoes.

"Go to sleep Blaine. You'll be home soon."

The door shuts behind her and Blaine feels likes he's drowning as his exhausted body pulls his mind into sleep.

"_Come on little songbird, let's give the crowd something to cheer about."_

"_Oh and look, our little songbird remembered how to sing." _

_Kurt needs me to come home. I can't keep my promise. _

_She has blue eyes. Not another, please, not another—_

Blaine shoots up, a scream caught in the back of his throat. He breathes heavily, trying to slow the beating of his heart that is racing in his chest. Sweat drips over his face and his chest heaves up and down.

He sits frozen for a minute before gently laying back against the pillows, wincing as his still unhealed muscles stretch and slide.

"Blaine? Why were you screaming?" Crippet rushes in to his bedside, a look of concern etched across her face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Blaine shakes his head slowly, the movement making him wince.

"You're still in pain aren't you? Well, I can't give you any more medicine so you'll just have to get some rest and sleep it off when you get home. We're almost there. I was just about to come and get you."

She helps him slowly out of the bed. He realizes that he is still dressed, his hair still stuck into that ridiculous gel helmet.

"You can change when you get home. Go wash up a little and then come to the main room. We'll be arriving in District 1 in a couple minutes."

Blaine moves away and stumbles into the bathroom, splashing water onto his face. He looks into the mirror and is shocked by what he sees. He doesn't recognize this boy. The stranger in the mirror is handsome, and well groomed, seemingly perfect but for the dark circles under his dull eyes. He has no expression. It's just blank, nothing registering on that tanned, polished face.

Shaking his head a bit, Blaine straightens out his clothes and after grabbing the still unopened box from York, he walks out and joins Crippet in the room.

He sits and stares down at his hands that are nervously clasped on his lap. Seconds seem like minutes, and minutes seem like hours until finally the intercom buzzes to life, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived to District 1. Please wait until the train is at a full stop before disembarking. Welcome home Mr. Anderson and congratulations." It buzzes back to silence.

Blaine stands, heart frozen in his chest.

"Here's where I say good bye." Crippet says quietly. "Now, you'll have trouble adjusting. Make sure you don't go out for a while, stay close to those you love. You'll need a lot of rest and lot of sleep so I've talked to your family to make sure they have everything ready for your arrival. Someone's going to have to be with you at all times, just in case you have a flashback. The nightmares are going to be bad at first, but you're a strong boy. You'll get through this."

Blaine nods and suddenly, before he can comprehend what his body's doing, he's pulling Crippet into a tight embrace, whispering a soft "Thank you" into her ear.

He feels the woman nod against him. "Just doing my job."

He actually smiles and looks into his mentor's icy eyes.

"Take care Anderson."

"You too Ms Crippet."

The train is stopping and then there are attendant rushing him to the exit, in front of the closed doors, the only barrier left between him and District 1.

"Oh and Anderson?"

Blaine turns back, looking over his shoulder at the woman that pulled him through the games. "Yes Ms Crippet?"

"I understand now. You are one who deserves to live."

"Why? Why me? Why not her?"

Crippet just smiles sadly at him. "Because you are you."

Blaine looks at her in confusion but suddenly he hears a click and spins to look at the doors. They are unlocking and beginning to slide open. He holds in a breath and the world erupts into color and sound.

There are cameras flashing and people cheering. He looks out in shock. Then suddenly he is being pulled down from the train and tight arms are shielding him from the crowd and into a group of Peacekeepers.

Blaine blinks in shock and looks at the person. "Cooper?"

"Hey Blaine." Cooper Anderson smiles and pulls him into a tight hug. "Welcome home."

Blaine doesn't reply, he just stands in his brother's arms, feeling cocooned warmth, being shielded from the roaring crowds. Then his brother is moving, pulling his brother with him, keeping him shielded as much as he can from the cameras and cheering crowds with his body, tightly wrapping his arm over his brother's shaking shoulders.

Ignoring the pain of their quick movement, Blaine just stumbles along, leaning on his brother for support. It's all surreal. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the smell of the chill winter air and the moist atmosphere of District 1.

Peacekeepers help the brothers through the crowd until they reach the small Anderson plot of land, which the Peacekeepers have fenced off. It all looks the same. The dirt roads. The small worn cottage, wisps of smoke rising from the chimney and tinting the breeze. There's his bike, leaning against a fence.

He lifts his head and sees two people running out of the house, towards them. Blaine's breath catches and Cooper releases him and suddenly he's in his mother's arms. She's crying softly and laughing, holding her boy close. He buries his face in her neck, breathing in her warm, familiar scent. Tear threaten to spill over, but they are trapped by some unseen force behind his eyes. He closes them softly, just holding his mother tightly.

"My boy. My darling boy" She whispers softly, "You're back. You're home."

It feels like a dream. Blaine grips her tighter, fearing that she might slip away and he might wake up from this beautiful illusion. Wanting to keep this seemingly impossible moment in his reality. "I told you I wouldn't be gone forever." He mutters.

She just nods, stroking his back and hair, taking comfort from the feeling of her son against her. His knees weaken, and suddenly he is falling, but his family is there to catch him, and cradle him.

His father holds him from another side, his arms wrapped around his wife and youngest son. "I am so proud of you son. I knew you'd come home."

Blaine relaxes, breathing softly between his parents. He is aware of Cooper a few steps away, face turned away as he tries to wipe away the tears that are spilling down his face, but they fall faster than he can catch them. His shoulders shake, but he doesn't want to look weak in front of his brother.

"Coop?"

Cooper's voice cracks and he turns, "Yes Blaine?"

"Can you come please?"

Cooper kneels beside his family, and takes them in his arms. They all sit in comfort, Blaine held tightly between them.

The Anderson family was whole again.

They quiet, and pull away, and Cooper helps Blaine to his feet. Mr. Anderson bites his lips as he takes in the look of discomfort that flashes across Blaine's features. His son looks around, and then asks, "Where's Kurt?"

"Oh sweetheart." Mrs. Anderson wraps her arms around her son, leading him inside the little cottage. "He's at home. It isn't safe for him to be here with all the cameras. We didn't want him to be involved. He'll be here once night falls."

"What about curfew?"

"The Peacekeepers have made an exception. They're actually the ones bringing him."

Blaine nods, understanding. He wants Kurt to be safe. He didn't want Kurt's beautiful face plastered all over Panem. His eyes threaten to drop closed, tiredness taking over him. Too much feeling, too much emotion, too much for his body to handle.

Cooper helps him into his room, setting his brother lightly on the bed. Mrs. Anderson pulls off his shoes and tucks him in, brushing her lips across his forehead.

"You can wash up later. For, now, just rest."

"Kurt?" He whispers drowsily.

"Shhh you'll see him in a few hours. Just sleep now baby boy."

Blaine curls up in the sheets, and his family steps out, softly shutting the door behind them. He rolls on his back, and stares up at the cracked ceiling as he always did, watching the small hole filter shafts of sunlight into the small room. He gazes at the dust motes as they spin and dance in the air, and lets himself fall asleep.

Kurt slips out into the night, Peacekeepers guiding him through the unlit streets. The mud squelches underneath his feet, and his heart thuds loudly.

Blaine was here.

He was going to see Blaine.

The Peacekeepers, their white uniforms almost glowing in the dark night, allow him through the barricade they have set up around the small Anderson property. The District was going to move the family to the Victor's Village as soon as its construction was completed in a few months. No one believed that District 1 was going to have a victor so soon.

He walks up to the door, and knocks lightly. Mrs. Anderson was instantly there to answer it and gather Kurt up in her arms.

"How is he?" He asks quietly.

"Better once he sees you."

She lets go of her son's boyfriend, and then Mr. Anderson is there, holding his hand out. Kurt shakes it firmly, looking up into the man's hazel eyes.

"I'll take you to him." Mr. Anderson says and Kurt follows Blaine's father to the door of his room.

"You can stay all night if you want. Stay as much as you can. As long as you…You know… Don't do anything inappropriate. I know you won't take advantage of Blaine in this state, but you know, I have to remind you anyway."

"Thank you Mr. Anderson."

"No. Thank you Kurt. I know we've had our problems but I owe you so much. You're the reason I have my son back. Thank you."

"It wasn't me. It was all him."

Mr. Anderson nods, eyes softening as he gazes at the door. "But you gave him the courage he needed to keep going Kurt. What you two have… I can't believe I didn't see it before… It's just magical. And he's-no we're so lucky to have you as part of this family."

Kurt looks at the man, stunned at the change. "Uh, it was my pleasure. I love him." He stutters out.

"I know you do. And he loves you too. Now go in, he'll be happy to see you."

Kurt doesn't need to be told twice. Suddenly, he's pushing the door open and shutting it behind him, stepping softly into the room.

There he is.

Curled up in the sheets, breathing lightly in quiet puffs.

There's Blaine.

Kurt's heart freezes and he moves nearer, kneeling beside Blaine's bed. He's so close he could touch him. But he's afraid he'll flicker away.

He's afraid he isn't real.

He watches Blaine for minute, heart catching and stuttering, tripping over its own beats.

He's so beautiful.

Kurt traces every memorized feature as if seeing the boy for the first time. The dark brush of his thick lashes over his cheeks, the soft curve of his rosy lips, the tan of his silky skin.

He moves his shaking hand to Blaine's cheek, brushing it softly. Blaine stirs and Kurt watches as his eyelashes flutter open, hazel eyes widening in surprise as they take in the other boy.

"Kurt" He breathes.

Kurt swallows thickly, voice cracking, a single tear slipping down his porcelain cheek. "Hello Blaine."

**To be continued. You can expect the next chapter sometime this week. Since I'm on break I'll have some extra time to write. **

**Please review! **


	25. Chapter 22 A Thousand Years

**Here's the next chapter! **

**Warning: Some major fluff ahead. Read with caution. **

Blaine sits in shock until suddenly Kurt has him in his embrace. They sit buried in each other's arms for what seems like hours. Blaine is frozen. He feels so close to what he's fought and struggled for, but now that he has it, he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't know what to feel or what to think. Doesn't know if any of this is real. How could it be real?

How could it possibly be real?

Kurt is shaking, openly crying into Blaine's shoulder, arms gripping Blaine so tight he knows he'll bruise, but it's worth it. And there is no way Blaine is going to let Kurt go now.

"Shh… I'm here… I'm here… I'm not going anywhere." Blaine soothes, closing his eyes, just loving the feeling of Kurt against his body. Somewhere deep inside, something is bubbling up. Sadness? Loss? Completion? It's that damn gap again, this hole in his chest just aching to be filled. It hurts and Blaine just wanted to let go, to cry in Kurt's shoulder, to let it all out. But he can't. What if the cameras are watching? He can't appear weak.

Kurt is kissing his neck, muttering into his ear. "I love you. I am so proud of you. I love you I love you I love you. I knew you'd come home. I am so sorry. I am so so sorry"

It was then that hazel eyes met blue. Blaine sat in shock, almost brought back to the cliff and freezing rain, until he realizes that they aren't the same blue eyes. These have specks of green in them.

It's Kurt. Really Kurt. And no one else. It's Kurt.

_It's Kurt. _

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He whispers softly, voice rough.

Kurt is moving closer, opening his mouth to say something, but Blaine cuts him off with a kiss. It is soft, chaste, but says more than a thousand words. Kurt lets his hand move to cup Blaine's face and uses the other to pull him closer.

It was as if nothing had happened. Blaine is home. There was never a reaping, there was never an arena, there was never a nightmare. It was as if Kurt had come to bring Blaine back from the mill after a long day of lightless hours in the factory. It was if they were in the meadow, the breeze catching and swirling about them.

Then Blaine is pulling away, looking down with a silent exhale, a small smile playing on his lips. He reaches up to run his hand through his curls when they don't move. A look of confusion flashes across his face. Then the look is back. That blank look.

It was real.

Kurt holds his breath, watching his boyfriend fight this internal battle. His face is emotionless, not betraying a single thought, but Kurt knows Blaine. He knows that he is fighting so hard after he's already won. And it hurts to see him like this.

Blaine is still stuck inside that arena. Trying to find his way out. He doesn't feel safe, he doesn't feel secure, he doesn't feel. Kurt just wants life to go back to how it was. It wasn't much, but hell it was beautiful. But he knows that things will never be the same, Blaine will never be the same.

He wants to just move closer and kiss him. Wants to tell him that he's safe and that everything's okay and that it's over. Wants to hold him tight until the sun rises and sends shafts of light through the cracked ceiling.

But he can't.

_One step at a time_, Kurt thinks to himself.

"I think you should go wash up. Get some of that gel out of your hair. Then you can come back and sleep. How does that sound?" Kurt urges lightly, voice concealing the concern he holds.

Blaine nods numbly and moves to the bathroom door, where the shower installed is small but sufficient, taking cold water from the stream and carrying it through rusted pipes. The door shuts softly behind him and Kurt hears the water start to run.

Kurt lets out a long breath, running his slender fingers through his hair. Normally, he would refrain from such an action, considering he left his hair pristinely coiffed. But nothing about this was normal.

He busies himself, arranging the sheets and pillow, trying to make everything as comfortable as possible for Blaine. He pulls out a towel and some dry clothes, setting them by the door to the bathroom so he can get changed.

He is bustling about, straightening things out…

Then suddenly

A strangled cry from within the bathroom.

A large thump and crash.

A whimper.

Alarm seizes in Kurt's mind.

Blaine.

Without thinking, he's bursting into the bathroom, throwing aside the shower curtain and kneeling next to the tub. Blaine's curled up on the bottom, water pouring on his face and skin, eyes squeezed shut, his body as tense as the drawstring on a bow.

"Oh my god Blaine are you okay? What happened?" Kurt's panicking, checking his boyfriend over, looking for any injury. "Are you hurt? Blaine?"

Blaine's shaking, violent tremors wracking his body.

"Blaine? Please say something. What can I do? Please. " Kurt pleads.

Blaine is quiet, and then he begins to recite softly, as if reading out a memory, eyes still frozen shut, "I realize that I am crying softly, the tears mingling with the cold rain that is still pelting down on the arena. My body is finally betraying me as I begin to lose control. The black spots return and creep around the edges of my vision." Blaine's voice cracks, but he swallows and continues, "It is almost over. In some way or the other. Keep breathing keep fighting. I know the world is watching and I try to stop the tears. But I can't."

Kurt stares in shock, realization washing over him like icy water, stinging and binding: He's reliving a moment in the arena.

Blaine breathes, voice trembling, "I sway on my feet, spreading my good arm out to steady myself. Every droplet of rain feels like it is trying to push me to my feet. It's as if the Gamemakers are trying to hammer me down, drop by drop, until I am part of the arena itself. But I stay on my feet, and breathe." He shudders. "In, Out"

In a second Kurt is climbing into the tub with him, the stinging spray splashing into his face. It doesn't matter that Blaine is naked, or that he is going to get his clothes wet. All that matters is that Blaine needs him.

And now Kurt is right where he is.

He pulls Blaine onto his lap and against his chest. "Shhh… Shhh… It's okay. You're safe now. You're home. Shhh… I love you." He reassures into his ear, stroking his soaking curls, massaging the gel out of them.

When Blaine opens his hazel eyes, they are unfocused and glazing over. He's biting his lip, and Kurt can tell that he's trying to keep himself from crying.

"You can let go Blaine. You don't have to hide anymore. There's no one watching."

It is silent for a moment; all that can be heard is the pitter patter of the water droplets and the creaking of the rusty pipes. Then Blaine lets out a sob. One single wrenching sob. Then another. And another.

He's finally crying, tears pouring down his face and mingling with the water. Finally crying about everything that's happened, not because of pain or the consequence of his battered body. Finally crying because of _Blaine_. His body is shaking violently with the effort, chest heaving. Kurt just pulls him closer, holding him tight, arms wound tightly around his boyfriend, as if he could keep everything away. Blaine buries his face into Kurt's smooth neck and sobs painfully.

Kurt moves his hand in soothing circles across Blaine's back, the physical presence of Blaine enough to bring him to tears but he doesn't dare cry, he has to be strong for Blaine. But he can't trap a couple tears that escape and vanish into the pouring water. Without the clothes, or the makeup, or the mask, he sees how vulnerable Blaine really is, and how frail the games have made him. He runs his fingers lightly across Blaine's skin, over an unflawed, unmarked shoulder that Kurt had seen ripped apart by savage claws. Instead of an ugly scar, there's nothing but smooth supple skin. No memory of the wound on the outside, only on the inside.

And it's the absence of any sort of damage that will haunt Blaine for the rest of his years. He has nothing real or tangible about his experience in the games to hold on to. All of it is seared inside his mind, and makes more of a mark than anything.

Eventually Blaine's sobs quiet and lessen, the shaking fading into nothing more than the occasional shiver. Tears become sniffles. Kurt is still holding him tightly, whispering into his ear and reassuring him. Reassuring him that this is real. That he's safe. That he's home.

Blaine exhales, his breath a hot breeze fluttering across Kurt's skin.

"I'm getting you wet." He mumbles into Kurt's neck.

"Since when has that ever been a problem?" Kurt says shortly, running his fingers through Blaine's wet curls.

Blaine pulls away slightly, looking up into Kurt's eyes, and small smiles break across their faces. Kurt chuckles, leaning in to kiss Blaine. He brushes a tear from his cheek, holding his face in his hands. Kurt pulls him in tightly, pressing their foreheads together and Kurt can feel Blaine's breath on his lips.

"I love you" Blaine sighs, entangling his fingers with Kurt's.

"Love you too."

Blaine blinks his eyes drowsily and Kurt smiles fondly. "Let's get you to bed."

He helps Blaine out of the tub, drying him off slowly and dressing him. Blaine's already half asleep when Kurt pushes him lightly on the bed. He lies there, curled up in the sheets while Kurt strips of his soaking clothes and slips into dry ones, not bothering with his moisturizing routine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, rubbing his hands in his eyes, looking like a sleepy toddler.

"I'm right here." He says gently, sliding into the bed and pulling Blaine into his arms. He sits, carding his fingers through Blaine's dark silky curls, watching his long lashes flutter closed.

Then Blaine turns to look up at him, hazel eyes droopy, feeling so impossible safe, warm, and loved. "Sing to me." He breathes softly.

Kurt looks down at the boy in his arms, cradling him against his chest. It is quiet for a moment and suddenly Kurt is singing softly, for the first time in what feels like decades.

_Hearts beat fast, tears and promises_

_How to be brave_

_How could I love when I was afraid you'd fall?_

_But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly flew away somehow_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_Time stands still, beauty in all she is_

_I will be brave_

_I will not let anything take away_

_Who's lying in front of me_

_Every breath, Every hour has come to this_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_One step closer_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid,_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more…_

Kurt looks back down in his arms, and sees that Blaine is bordering on sleep, a smile on his rosy lips. "Go to sleep love." He whispers.

Within moments Blaine is asleep, breathing softly. Kurt leans down to press a kiss to his curls. He looks up at the stars through the holes in the ceiling, watching the moonlight as it trickles into the dark room. Snuggling in closer to his boyfriend and wrapping him tightly within his arms, he falls asleep.

**Oh how I have missed the fluff. **

**Okay everyone, only one more chapter left and an epilogue. So basically one last update and we're done. I'm flying off to Budapest this Wednesday, so you won't get a chapter on Thursday. I'll probably post it this week or when I get back depending on how much time I have. **

**I love you all! Thank you so much for reading! **

**Please please review! Really helps me get the chapters up quicker. Please! Hugs! **


	26. Chapter 23 Safe and Sound

**Hello there! I'm home! **

**Unfortunately I didn't have much time to write so I'll post the second part of this chapter later because right now all I want to do is sleep. Thank you all so much for your patience and it means so much that you're still sticking around. If you have any questions or requests don't hesitate to drop by. **

**Hope you like it! **

Days pass. Sweeping moments between seconds. Filled with quiet whispers and loud silences.

Some days passed uneventful, Blaine sitting up with his family and loved ones. He never participated in the excited discussions of the new diamond mine that was destined to forever change the future of district 1. He was content to sit and just watch. Just bathe in the comfort of their presence, the feeling of home seeping out of every crack in the old cottage. Every scent, every touch, every grain of softened wood. Kurt would sneak a glance at him every so often. He caught every flash of pain that crossed his face at the movement of his still- raw muscles. He caught every semblance of discomfort and rushed to his aid or just lent quiet support with his eyes. Those were the good days. The days where Kurt thought everything might be able to return to normal. Blaine was quieter, still refusing to sing or make any sort of music, often lost in thought or trying to drown the thoughts out, but he was still Blaine. He was there. A small smile graced his face every so often, and he seemed almost happy.

Those were the good days.

But more often than the good there were the bad days. Days when Kurt would wake up to the wrench of the sheets as Blaine sat up in terror, eyes wide, chest heaving until Kurt pulled him down against the threadbare pillows, gentle hands caressing the heated skin. Nights where Blaine screamed as Kurt pleaded him to wake up, _just wake up_, and then cradled his head in his lap, carding slender fingers through sweaty curls. Other nights where Kurt would wake to a cold and empty bed, only a low light in the bathroom and the choked sounds of Blaine throwing up. Night were he pushed open the door to the bathroom and smoothed his hands in soothing circles around Blaine's back as he emptied stomach. Where Blaine would pull away, sweaty and shivering, looking down at his hands expecting to see the blood of the tributes he had killed, as Kurt rocked him tightly against his chest with whispers of "I'm here, you're safe."

Sometimes Kurt was thankful that Blaine never spoke about what he had relived of the arena or what enemy or emotion had plagued his nightmare. He was thankful that Blaine never described how vivid the dreams were or what he remembered of them when he finally awoke. But mostly, Kurt just wanted to go into Blaine's mind and fight off what he found there, regardless of whoever or whatever it was.

Soon, the good days began to outnumber the bad. There occasional nightmare, the occasional sleepless night. Kurt knew Blaine wasn't well, he wasn't okay, despite his constant mutters of "I'm fine." which seemed more as way to reassure himself than anyone else. Blaine was keeping everything locked away, compressing all the memories and remembered emotion of the arena in a little box that he buried deep inside himself. But the locks kept rattling, the hinges kept breaking, the lid flying open one moment and then slamming shut the next.

"Kurt?" awoke him from his silent reverie. "You look troubled."

"I'm fine" he replies, forcing a smile on his tired face.

"Aren't you going to eat? Your food is going to get cold."

Kurt looks down at his half eaten plate. He is still unused to the idea that he can leave it. That he isn't hungry. That they now have the luxury of food after Blaine's triumph.

"yeah sorry." He says, sliding some peas onto his spoon and slipping it into his mouth. Burt and Mr. Anderson are talking about the future of the District, of the academy they're thinking of setting up to train our tributes before they enter the arena. Trying to create a future where no child would be thrust into the arena as afraid and unprepared as Blaine was.

The atmosphere seems so normal that Kurt almost laughs out loud. This moment of beautiful peace and normalcy is one he wants to cling to for as long as he possibly can.

But it shatters in instant as terrorized shouts and sobs echo into the parlor from beyond Blaine's closed door.

Mrs. Anderson covers her mouth with her pale hand, voice choked up, "I thought he was finally asleep..."

Carole shushes her quietly, reassuring her with a sad expression on her face as Mr. Anderson looks at the door with a pained expression. Burt slams his fork down on the table, anger at how wrong this is. Anger at how obscenely wrong it is that this is happening to one of the bravest and sweetest boys he'd ever met.

Kurt flies to his feet, rushing towards the door with a quiet, "I got it."

His feet pad lightly against the creaky wooden floor and he throws the door behind him with a quiet crash as it shuts. Within moments Kurt is at Blaine's bedside, where the small boy is thrashing in his sleep.

"Blaine Blaine Blaine sweetheart wake up. You have to wake up."

But Blaine's eyelids just continue to flicker and Kurt realizes in alarm that Blaine is crying in his sleep. He hasn't had such a powerful dream for days.

"Blaine please." Kurt wraps his arms around him, afraid he's going to hurt himself. He realizes that tears are streaming down his face as well at the sight of his boyfriend being torn apart from within. "Blaine!"

Blaine awakes with a start, body stiffening.

"Blaine it's me, you're home, you're safe..."

He shakes violently before twisting closer to Kurt's body, sobbing. Kurt just cradles him against his chest, running his hands lightly against his body and sides, as if confirming that he is here. He doesn't know what to do. It has never been so bad before.

"shhh Blaine just breathe you're okay you're safe" Kurt realizes that he is crying now as well. "Blaine please I don't know what to do, what can I do? I am so so sorry. So sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Blaine whispers quietly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"You couldn't do anything Kurt."

Kurt pulls away, seeing Blaine looking into the distance, as if staring through the wall and towards the rolling miles to the Capitol. To the arena that seemed right outside their door.

"Blaine."

No response.

"Blaine. Please look at me."

After a moment's hesitation, Blaine lifts his head ever so slightly, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Look at me."

"I'm afraid." He mumbles softly, voice but a whisper in the dark.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Ever. Now go to sleep."

"I can't."

"You _need _rest."

"I'm afraid of what I'll see." Blaine mumbles, voice muffled by Kurt's chest.

"Don't be."

"But…"

Then Kurt is hushing him, pressing him gently against the mattress, deaf to Blaine's protests and easily overpowering his feeble attempts to rise. As he struggles against him, Kurt begins to sing softly, and Blaine stills amidst Kurt's insistent lullaby:

_I remember tears streaming down your face__  
><em>_When I said I'd never let you go__  
><em>_When all those shadows almost killed your light__  
><em>_I remember you said "don't leave me here alone."__  
><em>_But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight___

_Just close your eyes__  
><em>_The sun is going down__  
><em>_You'll be alright__  
><em>_No one can hurt you now__  
><em>_Come morning light__  
><em>_You and I'll be safe and sound___

_Don't you dare look out your window__  
><em>_Darling everything's on fire__  
><em>_The war outside keeps ranging on__  
><em>_Hold on to this lullaby__  
><em>_Even when the music's gone__  
><em>_Gone___

_Just close your eyes__  
><em>_The sun is going down__  
><em>_You'll be alright__  
><em>_No one can hurt you now__  
><em>_Come morning light__  
><em>_You and I'll be safe and sound..._

__  
>Kurt trails off, stroking Blaine's damp curls, watching his eyes flutter closed, the tension slowly easing itself out if his muscles. Kurt watches fondly, heart aching at the beautiful boy in his arms. Softly, he sings the last verse, voice cracking and throat thick: <p>

_Just close your eyes__  
><em>_The sun is going down__  
><em>_You'll be alright__  
><em>_No one can hurt you now__  
><em>_Come morning light__  
><em>_You and I'll be safe and sound__  
><em> 

Blaine's breathing deepens and silence blankets across the room like a comforting fog. Kurt exhales softly, running his hand over his face. He rubs his eyes tiredly, wanting to climb in next to his boyfriend on the bed and fall asleep. Instead, he chooses to remain seated by Blaine's bedside, their fingers loosely tangled together, and watches him sleep.

His face looks so peaceful, Kurt thinks tenderly. He leans over and kisses Blaine gently on the forehead before drifting off to the sounds of his boyfriend's quiet breathing.

To be continued….

**Credits: **

**The song was **_**Safe and Sound**_** by Taylor Swift ft the Civil Wars that was featured on the Hunger Games Soundtrack. Many thanks to TheGirlWithTheOnyxRose for that rec :)**

**Thank you all so much for reading! I'll try to have the next part up as soon as I can! If the winners of the competition could please drop by again so I can send them their sneak peeks that would be awesome! **

**Lots of love, much gratitude, and a hell of a lotta hugs! **


	27. Chapter 24 Of Quiet Music

**Hi there! **

**Hope you like the chapter! **

Kurt shifts in sleep, tightening his arms around Blaine but all they embrace is emptiness. His hands search the sheets for the warmth but all they touch is cold sheets. His eyes shoot open and he sits up, swaying dizzily at the rush of blood from his head. He blinks, adjusting to the dark but the bed is empty, a slight indent and rumpled sheets the only evidence that someone had lain there.

"Blaine?" He calls out softly. When only the soft rustling of the shingles in the cold night breeze in the empty room replies, his heart constricts.

His shivers as he disentangles himself from a blanket someone had thrown over him and slides out, bare feet shuffling across the soft wood floors, the air chill against his warm skin.

Wrapping his arms around himself he slips out of the room silently, wincing at the creaking of the door as it squeaks open. Padding lightly across the hallway, Kurt slows when he reaches the main room. A small candle is lit and flickers in the corner, illuminating a lone figure sitting on a piano. His shoulders are hunched, and he presses lightly on the keys. One at a time. Not making a melody, just quiet notes staining the silence.

Kurt hovers at the doorway, simply watching Blaine sit at the piano. The Capitol had sent it as a "congratulations gift" and it had just stood there for days, gathering dust. Blaine pointedly avoided it, but Kurt had seen him stare at it when he thought no one was watching. He didn't know that Blaine had stared at it because it was the same piano that was on the train. The same piano where he broke down, the same piano where he had decided he wouldn't give up. That he wouldn't lose himself. On that bench once sat a girl with wispy blonde hair. That bench was where they had laughed as the rising morning flickered through the windows. Laughed as if the world wasn't watching. Laughed as if time had stood still. Laughed as if one of them wasn't going to their death.

Kurt didn't know.

And he never will.

Suddenly, Kurt's feet are carrying him to the piano bench, and he slides in beside his boyfriend. Blaine doesn't look up, simply squeezes back when Kurt gently takes his free hand. After a few long moments, Blaine lifts his hands and brushes lightly across the ivory keys again. He looks up at Kurt, face blank but eyes asking a question.

Kurt forces a small smile on his face and nods encouragingly. "Sing."

Blaine looks down again, voice choking as he mutters, "What do I sing?"

"Whatever you can't say."

It's quiet again, and Kurt fears that Blaine changed his mind. But then, Blaine is playing softly, the sounds stumbling and tripping hesitantly until they form a quiet melody. He clears his throat once. Twice. And then he is singing, liquid voice leaking across the room. _It's been so long_ Kurt thinks and he closes his eyes, feeling like he could just melt at the sound. But Blaine is forming words, and Kurt sits up, watching his face carefully.

_I'm so tired of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_And if it is at an end_

_I wish that it would just end_

_'Cause its presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_But all that's left_

_Are pieces of me _

Kurt watches, heart feeling like it's slowly ripping itself apart for the boy next to him. Blaine is looking intently at the keys or at the distance, anywhere but Kurt. His eyes are glazing over, and leaden tears begin to drip lightly down his cheeks. His voice cracks consistently, but his fingers never stop making their music.

It had never occurred to Kurt till that moment their lives, so closely interwoven, could unravel with such speed. If he'd known, maybe he'd have kept a tighter hold of them. Held tightly to all the pieces before they had fallen apart and shattered.

Blaine seems like he's about to stop, but he takes a shuddering breath and continues.

_You still to captivate me_

_By your resonating light_

_But now I'm bound by the lives I left behind_

_Their faces that haunt_

_My once pleasant dreams_

_Their voices that chased away_

_All the sanity in me_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

He opens his mouth to continue, but it seems like he can't take in a breath, let alone sing. He chokes, and releases a small stuttering sob. Kurt's heart just breaks, but doesn't take his hand or wrap him in his arms. He lets him shake, lets him fight to breathe. Lets the pain finally come.

Lets him finally start to heal.

Blaine's hands still on the keys, the tears dripping down his nose and onto the ivory below. The candle flickers in the corner, sending dancing shadows across his face. Even wrought with sadness, Kurt can't help but think how beautiful he is.

Then Kurt is lifting his hand and gently covering Blaine's fingers with his own. The porcelain of his skin against Blaine's tan contrasts sharply in the candle light. He feels Blaine shiver beside him at small touch. He looks up at him in confusion, hazel eyes shining beneath long lashes, but Kurt just smiles gently at him, before moving his hand slowly atop Blaine's, pressing his fingers lightly against the keys. Eyes still locked with Kurt's, the fingers resume the melody hesitantly. Taking in a deep breath and trapping Blaine's eyes with his own, Kurt sings softly but firmly.

_When you cry, I'll wipe away all of your tears_

_When you scream I'll fight away all of your fears_

_And I'll hold your hand through all of these years_

_You still have, all of me _

The tears are steadily streaming down Blaine's face, and his shoulders shake as he cries silently. Kurt moves in closer, and removing his hand from Blaine's and lifting it to his face, brushing the tears lightly away with his thumb. They're so close, and Kurt shudders at the feeling of Blaine's warm breath slide across his skin. He smiles at him, blue eyes glazing over as he hesitantly leans in for a kiss. When their lips meet, Blaine is still, but then he is kissing him back. The kiss deepens, and Kurt pulls Blaine closer with his free hand, cupping his face gently. Kurt can taste the salty tears on Blaine's lips which open to allow Kurt's tongue access. He feels Blaine shiver as their mouths slide together, seamlessly, as if they were never parted. He feels his stuttering heartbeat through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Feels his ragged breathing as he clings to Kurt like a lifeline.

Kurt pulls away gently, cradling Blaine's face in his palms, pressing their foreheads together. Their breaths intertwine between them, their fingers tangling together involuntarily between their bodies.

"I love you so much." Blaine chokes out.

Kurt looks up at him, getting lost and drowning in his wet hazel eyes. He couldn't believe that there was once a time that he could have lost him. Can't even imagine this moment, _this life_, without him. Then he whispers "I love you too." before finally pulling Blaine in his arms.

**Credits: **

**The song Blaine sang was "My Immortal" by Evanescense. I just heard the lyrics and felt it fit so damn perfect (although I did change a couple words). I'm imagining a little more stripped down than the original and much quieter. It's a beautiful song, and the lyrics are just so powerful so I had to use it. **

**Okay, so since I have no more time tonight, I'm going to be posting the epilogue tomorrow! And then we're done! (can you even believe it? because I certainly can't). I have a few final announcement but I'll make them tomorrow. Lots of love! **

**Please please please review. Other than the epilogue, it is the actual real chapter of the fic, and I would love to hear from you. Tell me what you think and thank you all so very much. I couldn't do any of this without you. Hugs! **


	28. Epilogue

**Well this is it guys. The final chapter. **

**Here we go… **

_6 months later..._

The air is heavy and warm, the small scent of smoke touching the breeze. The hot summer wind wafts gently through the dusty and cracked streets. The hard earth is hot through the soles of his worn shoes.

He steps lightly, a small spring in his step. And then there he is, pale and slender, blue eyes sparking in the midday sun as he stands waiting, a smile breaking across his face. Even after all this time Kurt still takes Blaine's breath away.

He rushes towards him and then Kurt is in his arms, kissing him quickly before pulling away and taking Blaine's hand, dragging him through the streets.

"Someone's in a rush today," Blaine laughs. Kurt just snorts adorably and pulls Blaine along faster.

A few minutes later, the couple reaches a splintered fence which Kurt jumps skillfully, Blaine following after a moment's hesitation, years of experience teaching them where it was lowest and how to avoid the cruelest thorns, the dry grass crunching beneath their feet as they land softly.

And then there it is.

The meadow where the two had been coming ever since their first day of school where chance stood them beside each other as a Peacekeeper listed off restrictions to a group of frightened children, his voice caging in the free spirit they were all born with as he forced them to learn, to follow and to never question.

The meadow that Blaine had thought of while a train was whisking him away to a shiny city and a forested arena.

The meadow where Kurt ran to when everyone had given up, where the rain had fallen in sheets, the lightning cracking across the sky.

The meadow that was home.

The tree's branches are laden with leaves, spreading dappled shade across the clearing. And hidden between the thick roots and covered by a worn tablecloth is an ancient guitar, wood made soft and smooth by generations of hands. The grasses have grown taller, are yellowed by the summer heat. They mask the remnants of small purple flowers that peak meekly through the carpet, where the overgrown grasses have concealed them to only those who know to look.

Other than the growth, it looks exactly the same. As if Blaine had never left. As if nothing had happened.

As if there was only a damned alarm clock, a worn cottage, a rusty bike, an educational facility, a girl who liked to answer questions, a factory with dim light, a dusty mill, a meadow, a chocolate cookie, a guitar, music, a smile, a kiss.

As if there was never a shirt buttoned by shaking fingers, a frightened crowd, a small slip of paper, a clear voice, an anguished cry, a last goodbye.

As if there was never a train, a piano, a girl with wispy blonde hair, a mentor, a bow tie, a crowd, a song, a desire to fight.

As if there was never an arena, a scream, a mountain, a cliff, a bear, a river, a cave, a guitar, a song, a storm, a knife, a cannon, a flood, a climb, a lifeless blue eye, a victor.

As if none of it had ever existed.

Blaine just looks on for a moment, Kurt watching him carefully, something he does often now.

"It's grown." Blaine breathes out with a smile, Kurt exhaling in turn.

"Hasn't it? Race you to the tree!" Kurt calls lightly before sprinting towards the tall oak, which shades much of their meadow.

"Not fair! You got a head start!" Blaine laughs before taking off behind his boyfriend. He catches him, his quick feet carrying him over the dry grasses. Kurt squeals as Blaine spins him around for a deep kiss, tongues intertwining as they kiss languidly in the midday sun. Then Blaine is pulling away shouting, "I thought we were still racing!"before sprinting towards the old oak.

Kurt glares at him for a second, a grin plastered to his face as he springs after him.

Blaine is running. The hot breeze is catching and playing with his dark silky curls, brushing across the bare skin of his arms, just a warm caress, like the comfort of soft fingers after a nightmare. His feet touch the ground with small crunches and small explosions of dust, the sun lifting them and giving them a stage to dance on as they waltz through the hot air.

He is running. But he isn't being chased. There isn't a cold hand constricting his heart, isn't a pounding pain in his ribs and shoulders. Isn't a glance behind to see a long knife, an arrow, or a launched spear.

He is running. And this time, he wants to be caught.

Before he reaches the tree, a small force tackles him to the ground, the air whooshing out of Blaine's chest as he thuds to the ground, the soft grasses cushioning him. He rolls away laughing and Kurt pounces, pinning him gently and straddling his chest.

"Got you." Kurt breathes, blue eyes shining and perfectly coiffed hair now perfectly ruffled. He reaches down, and brushes down the curls that have fallen across Blaine's forehead with a smile.

Hazel eyes sparking under the sun, Blaine leans up as much as possible to pull Kurt down into a long kiss that makes Kurt's heart stop. Breaking away with a grin he sings, "_Oh you make me smile." _

_The End_

**And there we go. Where do I even begin? **

**Writing this has been a fantastic experience. Truly. To have all of you and all this support for my first fanfic has been wonderful. Literally takes my breath away. You guys waited and were patient as I got the hang of formatting, and grappled with writing and editing. That's just….. wow. I don't deserve you all. You are all just totally awesome and fabulous and flawless. **

**I very much hope that you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I have writing it. I hope that I've made it as comfortable as possible, have seemed open and friendly, and haven't kept you waiting for too long. If I didn't accomplish this at any point, I truly apologize and I am very very sorry and I'm glad you stuck around despite that. **

**Before we get into the beef of what I have to say about the future, a few thanks have to be given. To those who helped me outside the fic and encouraged me: My good friends Jen (jenbondoc) and Jules (missweasly). And to those readers who consistently reviewed (I wish I could put everyone but no room! Every single review was fantastic, so for those of you who took the time to do that thank you very very much). But, special thanks to ****Temarifan9622, Sweetheart, Klaine19, Porcelein, Bioentity, Klaine Fearella and cellogrrl123. If I forgot someone I am very sorry but thank you from the depths of my heart. **

**And to all the Story Alerts, the Favorite Stories, the Author Alerts, and Favorite Authors….. just…. alkdjalsdjal…. THANK YOU! They were so motivational and really helped me finish. Much much gratitude. **

**Now, on to the future: **

**If we are to part ways here, I really hope you enjoyed the fic. Will I write a sequel? As of now, no. But if someone really wants one and there is popular demand for it, just come talk to me privately or through reviews or contact me on my tumblr, and we'll talk about it and see. Right now, I don't have enough ideas to make an actual substantial fic, but things might change if you all want so talk to me and maybe I'll revisit this. But in the near future, there will be no sequel because I honestly need a breather haha. **

**Now if you are interested in my future works, the answer is YES. I have decided to pursue writing fanfiction. How could I not after this amazing experience? (Do I hear cheers or groans?) **

**So, right now I'm going to need a small break. School is picking up, so this is the perfect time for a break. Once my schedule clears, I will start writing again. I have another huge AU crossover on the drawing board, but it will be a bit before I attempt that. I'm not going to announce it now but I'm very excited for it. **

**Until then, I want to write shorter multi-chapter fics (like 5 chapters or so). I have a couple ideas, but tell me what you want me to start with: **

**-A Klaine kidnapping**

**-A McKinley School Shooting **

**- Jealous Karofsky (sorry, I like this guy as the villain) **

**-Cheerio!Kurt, Nerd!Blaine (There are a lot of these out there, but someone asked me to do one so what do you guys think?) **

**As you can see, I am enjoying writing the Klaine angst so I'll stick with it. Please tell me your preference or give me a recommendation or request PLEASE. I am completely open to ideas and don't have anything specific in mind. Who knows, I might do them all at some point but let me know! **

**I very much hope you enjoyed the fic. Thank you so very much for reading! Please review and tell me what you thought, tell me any concerns, ask if you want me to elaborate something, or if you want anything about the fic. (I have a giant word doc I could send to you if you want to read it without internet, not sure what else I could offer but come talk to me! I won't bite!) **

**I'd love to hear what you think, especially if you've never reviewed before. This is your last chance! Please give me some ideas and come talk to me whenever. If only to say goodbye. I'd love to hear from all of you. It takes so little time but means so much. **

**Once you finish, I suggest you all go to this story on scarvesandcoffee(.)net and skim through it because I have added pictures, gifs, and links there that will show you some scenes as I saw them and imagined them. It is still titled "From Where You Are" but is authored by "theslytheringleek". This is only for you! So if you have time check it out! **

**Thank you so very much everyone and so much hugs to everyone! I love you all so much. Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you**

**And now, we're done. Good bye and may the odds be ever in your favor! **


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